Under the Stairs

Under the Stairs

Under the Stairs

There’s a place under the stairs,
where every kid stashes their woes and cares.
In the hours late at night, when the house is quiet, you can hear them fight.
They want your attention, they want your ear,
so they can remind you of your fears.

Now, as everyone knows, you can set them free,
those fears and woes. Oh, woe is me!
You can pick them up as you leave the house,
with your backpack, your purse, your lunch and your spouse.

Our suggestion is to leave them there, 
where they can’t fill you with despair.
Time’s not a factor, oh, they can wait,
but if you let them out, they will change your fate.

The woes you had stashed as a boy, you see,
will happily wait for the man-to-be.
And the cares of a girl, of her looks and such,
are patiently waiting for that woman’s touch.
Oh, those rascals! Those cares and woes,
They feel the same, they just wear better clothes!

So, just throw caution to the wind, 
don’t be concerned, don’t let them win.
If you don’t care, if you don’t cry, 
they cease to matter, they wither and die.
They cannot cause you pain and strife, if you live an adult’s life.

So late at night, when you hear them yell, 
You may tell them to go straight to hell!
Just know it’s them and let them be,
and go to bed, with your cup of tea.
They can’t really hurt you now…. Unless you go near the stairs.


My version of life. My stories. Told in my own words.

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