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The Swinging Door

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There is a door, that I know of
That doesn’t quite shut.
Everytime I close it
It opens right back up.

Though I know not what is wrong with the door
I can tell You what is past it.
The door is like Pandora’s Box, like
Schrodinger’s Cat.

If I keep it closed,
Then all the terribles
Won’t have to come out,
And all the possibles will
Never have to happen no matter how good or bad they are
And I won’t have to think of what could have gone
Right or wrong
I would just need to bury the truth in me
And never speak it in my mind or outside again.

I fear, if the door were left open
Then all the chaos
All the memories
Would come flooding back
And I would remember how I felt
And all the pain I went through
And all the possibilities that could have gone so right
And all the delusions I constructed in my mind.

The reality I dreamt was not the reality that ensued.

Time has passed.
And now as I’m looking at the door
Into the room I can see
The undeniable truth.

I know what is wrong with the door now.
Smiling, I leave it wherever it is
And walk away.




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