The Door

October 3, 2008
In a tiny room on the third floor
I heard a knocking upon the door
A gentle tapping behind the door
My senses I could feel no more

Only the tapping was upon the door
It felt like something in me tore
This noise I had come to abhor

I again heard the tapping upon the door
I could not take it anymore
I knew not what was behind the door
Nothing could be heard beneath the roar

Only the ghost of the swinging door
The screams grew deafening more and more
The tapping grew louder behind the door
It had a very ominous lore

Caught me from the very core
The bellowing became such a sore
The tapping grew behind the door
Who…who was behind the door?

Where the noise came I knew no more
I could only hear the drumming behind the door
That menacing banging behind the door
I couldn’t take it anymore

I know he stood behind the lore
Teasing me by banging the door
Watching me scowl and sore
As I fell unnoticed upon the floor

His lanky hand embraced my very core
Was I mad from the tapping gore?
As I lay bitter and in silent moor
A gentle tapping came from behind the unlocked door

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