Haunted Closet

The doors to the haunted closet are sturdier than iron gates, and yet can be blown open with a whispered word
Here hang the ghosts of unrequited love & the souls who wait for freedom till near departed. Piled here are the demons of hell's fury , a mother and a father's wrath, the shame of untimely racing hearts the guiltful taste of true love's nectar.
No crack to light these dusty floors, no rainbow to cast upon this sunken skin. No window but the sounds of the outside world, Whose dangers, at least, can not hurt who stays within.

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