Poem: Hush

In a locked room of
memory,
dark secrets hide
behind rosy cheeks
and plush fur,
between the printed lines
of storybooks about
chubby squirrels
and pretty flowers with
petals of primary colours.
The dark wood door
sealing them in the past
groans
under the strain.
Gifts, wrapped in whispers
that excused
the bruises I wore
(Children are so rough and tumble).
Toys with glass eyes
that were never as cold
as the ones that
warned me
not to spread lies
(No one would believe such filth).

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