The Door’s Whispers Poem by Naveed Akram

There was whispering at the door,
Except for the sigh, and the occult.
In front of us tore a blade through the crack,
Concealing the body behind it.

The door is an open object mostly,
But it concerned me with futility;
We had to reject the conspiracy theory
And relate to the stories of ancient weapons.

When we tore the blade away with our swords
The daggers started to spread around the walls;
The walls started to endanger our lives
And we wanted to squirm free.

There was a squeal and a torturous time ahead,
And every day we would count our blessings.
This time luck’s authority proclaimed itself present,
Exclaiming our magic, exclaiming the heroic nature.

The blade suddenly vanished and fire caught us,
The body behind was the fire, and we were caught;
The body was in danger, the body was in danger!
Yet we escaped, and we learnt this way.

The door remained shut, tasted our lives
And the corridors were the getaway,
Away, away, away we ran, faster than blades,
And more so, more so and more so.