What is the truth behind your sob story
You don't have one?
I can't believe what you're telling me
I do beg your pardon

Everyone has some kind of history
A memory deposit
A place known as a sadness repository
A skeleton (or two) in the closet

Some embrace and announce with fanfare
Their skeletal parade
Some push away and denounce with despair
Their happiness fade

Others wait until their actions complicit
Bulging at the seams
Crowds out their overstuffed closet
Anthropological sardines

Yet there are some who would decry
Freedom from sin
Fundamental acceptance of their sob story
Closet vacancies, apply within?