Skeletons In The Closet Poem by Randy McClave

I live in a kept house, which is a lot like me,
With cleanliness and godliness for all to see,
Inside my home, you will never see any clutter or dirt,
It is cleaned and pressed just like my Sunday shirt,
The foundation is strong for me and my home,
It is sturdy and clean like the teeth of my own comb,
The rooms are immaculate and the beds are always made,
A happy and christian man to one and all I am portrayed.
Upon my pictures and portraits you will never find any dust,
Living in pride and cleanness to me it is always a must,
Visitors and guest I am always happy and proud to meet,
Anyone is welcomed into my house, but first wipe your feet,
A crucifix hangs on my wall and a Bible sits on my table,
There also rests the local paper to show that I am stable,
All the floors are mopped and the carpets are vacuumed,
My house and me, are both very well groomed.

My grass isn't cut to short, nor neither is my hair,
So don't you complain or laugh, and please don't stare,
Coasters are set on my table not to be admired, but used,
And if I ask you to use them, do so! and be not confused,
My nails they are all trimmed like the hedges in my yard,
And if I see litter anywhere it I will pickup and discard,
My roof doesn't leak and I do not have a leaking faucet,
But; don’t you ever dare go, or look inside my closet.

Randy L. McClave