Doors


Every second echoed from the empty silence
The warm inviting colour on the door said nothing about the cold room that lay behind it
Iv opened many doors and this was meant to be the last
It promised an exit from the misery and loneliness that sheltered me
But once again my nose hits a cold brick wall
Heavier than disappointment is weather to or weather not to try again
This once practise dint make perfect
It was plain to see that the result was always Dejavou
The pain of disappointment died long ago leaving an empty space for obvious probability
I would have sworn the results were doctored
This time was no different
Another empty room with a peep hole to what could have been.

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One response to this post.

  1. You have brought up a very great points , regards for the post. “For visions come not to polluted eyes.” by Mary Howitt.

    Reply

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