Finally coming across death’s customary door

Waiting to be unchained so you can leap a safe haven

We knock impatiently waiting

To enter what we want to be heaven, our final resting place

But what wait to go inside the door, what could be our own personalized hell

Coming across death’s customary door

Wondering if the long journey was worth it

Waiting to be unchained

Unchained from the cold, rusty shackles that tie us to our worst memories

Still wishing to pick a lock, that is unable to be unlocked

Coming across death’s customary door

Thinking of the joy that could be lost, or gained

Gripping to the taste of homemade meals, the smell of freshly cut grass

Simple reminders that we are alive

Simple reminders that we might lose, going through death’s door

Looking at the smile that the door wears, mocking, but luring us to go forward

Still chained, trying to block out the excessive need to run away

Coming across death’s customary door

Being dragged by the chains that hold us captive, into the wildfire

Slowly walking through the ashes of what used to be

Looking down to see the old rusted chains that are now broken

Coming across death’s customary door

Not knocking, but walking straight in

We are no longer prisoners