Door Maker

Standing looking at the door

All is not what it appears
Brissly doormat acts in response to the soul
Crushed and broken with constant tread
A coat of varnish hides the fine cracks

On the inside the door is worn down
The cracks are pronounced quail
Long sadness trapped within
Seeking to be set free

Access is only from the outside
made by a different hand
There is no handle on the inside
 This door was made to closet
One side oppression the other sanctuary
Access was made to be functional

Happiness and contentment
Is in the crafting of a handle from within
The hand trembles, slowly turning
Not knowing what is on the other side.

Luvbeingadyke April 2012

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