The Doors And Their Locks Poem by Jarrod Pike

My emotions, stretched and torn,
much like a witehred rose,
my thoughts hurting me like its thorns,
the wckedness playing out infront of my nose.

I think about it some more,
maybe it was all my fault,
my life always stuck between two doors,
and always the one behind me locked by bolt.

It was locked by fate,
I have no choice to go back,
the lock may eventally be my mate,
and the choice to go back is what I lack.

Between these two doors I wimper,
for I wish my mind were simpler.