The Dreaded Door
I can hear it creaking
squeaking as though hungry for oil
a lubricating gel would help
the sound of it straining grates on my thinking
but, I have to push that door open
the answer is on the other side
somehow, I find comfort
in the cacophony of desperate contemplation
my mind trapped in a padded room
that doesn't absorb echoes
how is that?
in spite of the racket, the room is safe
what's and why's and wherefores
dance an unsynchronized dance
or perhaps, it is a simple riot
doubt, fear, anger, cowardice
trying to get in step
still the rusty door looms
I've opened that door before
oh yes, indeed I have
I've even entered blindfolded
I've entered drunk
I've entered in arrogance
I've entered in stupidity
decisions, decisions…
|
