Afraid to Creak the Door

A Book Opens.

Don’t talk to father, angry and betrayed, don’t.
And the don’t I am sure of,
and the will not is questionable.
Glamorize history to suffocate now fears.

I saw Eddie in the garden and everything seemed fine.
He assured me that it is all quite interesting
That I shall find it very acceptable, the choice that I will be given,
but for now I have to stay and accomplish the mission.

I wonder if He has been informed.
Surely, He would be proud of this,
Maybe not.

Blame me. I’ll be the scapegoat
Wandering in the wilderness.
Lay your sins upon me.
Touch me and freak.
I could have formulated a reasonable diagnosis,
That would have given me confidence.
It is much easier to simply clean His place.
I want to talk, but I’m afraid to crack that door open.

She warned that I should never tell and I promised that I would not tell.
Smell of coffee and pie, you just know when it comes and you forgive.

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About m.a. wood

writer, thinker, musician, teacher
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