Keys

 The key of life or living is but acting and closet doors.

Things you'll close to keep monsters at bay
are simply an addition- a part in your play.
Dust covers aren't hiding the eyes staring up,
and weighing your words won't make all this stop.

Don't press past our lifeless actions- harboring scripts of allegations,
rancid communications, and simple confirmations.

I can see past your stage, a reused plot;
it's watching the stumble of slow hidden thought.

I hate sitting on edge, knowing all that you mean;
We're divulging no words, yet it's more than it seems.

Coordinate the chaos, set the scene for two,
and together we can wreck the hell out of everything we knew.