Cleaning out my closet so to speak

Two meanings of things that are actually very different
Arrangements of words
Everyone else is the bad guy
I’ve felt like it a lot myself lately
It’s none of us
Are we a product of the past
Things that creep up back on us
When we least expect
Things that beg a lot of questions
And a lot of fights
And a lot of really late nights
Do we sleep in peace
Or do you
I haven’t in months
Just throwing out all the baggage left over
From a lifetime of someone disappointing me
And dear don’t take my dead debts personal
But I know it’s personal
It’s so deep in there I have to scrub it all out
To really get in the nooks of everything
Everything the world has pushed back
Or pushed my way
Left somewhere with dust
Dust off the attic and the old books
The old games and trophies
Everything we’ve left there
We all have our reasons
Do we ever get to air it out
Or does it just come out
In the worst ways
Yelling and fighting
Until we’re somehow throwing the books at each other and bickering like we’re children
Back to the old days
Just like everyday was
Something tells me
It’s just junk.