"The Door"

October 16, 2009
By Willow Smith SILVER, Culver, Indiana
Willow Smith SILVER, Culver, Indiana
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The Door
For weeks it stared back at me
With chipped paint and aged tarnish.
Drawing me in, I visited quite frequently
Always gingerly trying the knob.
Locked.
I soon became obsessed with that door
Hidden among the vines and brambles.
Rainy days I found my feet carrying me down the mudded lane.
A nagging feeling in my head
One day told me to turn back.
Disobeying the pull, I stumbled down the lane.
And stopped.
I tried the knobā€¦
And pushed the door across the mudded earth.
Stopping in the dark corridor, the door shut behind me.
Whirling around I tugged the knob-but it would not turn.
And then I saw them.
Nails
Nails imbedded in the door.
Streaks of brown trickling down the wood,
Trails of dried blood and fingernails like cut porcelain
Ringing pounded my thoughts
The icy chill of fear gripped my throat.

Always trust your gut.


The author's comments:
Always trust your gut, be careful in life...

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on May. 27 2010 at 1:20 am
littlebrownpet PLATINUM, Pune, Other
21 articles 0 photos 15 comments

Favorite Quote:
The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results

Wow, this poem feels so alive!


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