Door - Poem by David Wicks
My life seems cut off by a door.
I lay here, dying, with a stare.
I lay here, dying, without a care.
And I lie here, dying, on the floor,
And Satan yells with such a roar
That brings me from my zombified state
That’s blinded by my growing hate.
It seems this door blocks my way.
It blocks out my darkened heart.
I drift to death; I soon depart,
But I haven’t given up, so why should I start?
But perhaps it will open; any day,
And take my bleeding soul away.
And leave me with my body and mind.
My hatred now has made me blind.
Because my love seems cut off by a door.
She lays here, dying, with a stare.
She lays here, dying, without a care,
That I am sitting on the floor
With my hands upon my head.
And I cry here; now she’s dead.
I cry here because she’s dead.
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