I've a skeleton in the cupboard
Who's looking rather thin
And all alone
Composed of bone
Devoid of any skin

He dangles on a hanger
Reveals a faceless stare
It's no surprise, he has no eyes
No heart, no brain, no hair

I've a skeleton in the cupboard
He's simply known as Fred
Stuck in a pose
Not wearing clothes
And absolutely dead

A corpse is in the closet
But cut the gloom and doom
We often chat and chew the fat
From midnight until noon

I've a skeleton in the cupboard
Above my shoes and socks
Although deceased
I'm begging please
Don't notify the cops

And tell them of my secret
Because my lifeless pal
Is chilled and cool and as a rule
Is happy anyhow

Now if you think this poem's title's just a metaphor
I suggest you visit my bedroom then...
Carefully...
Open the cupboard door...