Clutter

If my head was an attic I would claim that is empty 

Nothing worth Seeing

Nothing at all

People claim that this is a lie and secrets can be found an adventure to be had

But when I venture up into there

All that happens is that I become scared

My embarrassments and moments of hate

All fly to me and smack me in the face

It breaks me down and I wish

That the attic that is my head

Was empty again.