Comments about Samuel Hall
The Breaking Point
The door is shut, the handle locked,
The light breaks in from the crack below,
As you sit in your room, full of fear and shock,
At the empty blackness, the tension, the woe.
Your existence is balanced on the state of the door,
The rusted knob groans and cracks from within.
Sweat down your face...what should you die for?
To control the shadow, or let it win.
As the handle clicks, as the key is turned,