Like scum it lurks beneath the dark places,

Swallowing the pipes whole,

Under the sink, where moist, dank

Verde colored mildew

and grunge, cling to leaky fittings,

Like half chewed bubble gum




Ever spoken from the thin lips of our superiors,

Carries a musty odor as from an old shoe,

Caught in the corner of the closet under a box.

The shoe gasps for air , choking, it decays and rots.

The eyes sting and drip, as the foul odor of shame represses us




Escapes the dry cracked  lips of authority

Tight, grey, colorless lips

Lips that have dried up and faded with age




We open the door and shame shoves its way in

And kicks up the dirty laundry that is our past.

Secrets piled high, shuffled about and strewn throughout the skull




Restless, Hungry, feeds on morrsels of guilt and regret.




Steals, and returns nothing

a repulsive guest.

We plead that one day shame will take a stroll outward, back from whence it came.




Beckons to the call of every criticism, judgment, and knowing glance.

We are forced

To open the cabinet door, with its faded paint, blistered and flaking.




“They”  come too close and become acquainted with our shame, while holding court with our fragile mind, pitilessly hoping to draw it out.

And the once plump promising lips of our youth are stifled and remain silent.  Our innocence pummeled.  We hide

We are hidden, we are separate, we are alone.