بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

There's no ghosts in my closet, no skeletons there to peek, out from behind a curtain, or a place from where you can't see. There's no part of my past, waiting there to jump out at you, for what I am today, is my choice in the Tomorrow I choose. If there's a blade in what I once was, that cuts you to the bone, then I'll break its edge, and make it smooth so only the future grows.