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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2210454
A poem with various meanings
Walking through many hallways,
passing doors by
left and right.
Stepping on tiles as I walk forward.

Only very few doors left open,
the rest closed and shut.

Walking through a certain door
left open by an unknown person.
But only to be closed once again
behind me.

Locking the door
for no one to get in.
Boxed in is a feeling
of being secure.
But maybe not.

Hearing doors burst open,
the sound of metal
banging against concrete,
seeing the light
flickering outside the door.

The outline illuminated
by the candle in the dark.
Running from behind the door,
to the darkest spot there is.

No windows but a single door,
my only escape
but too afraid to leave.

The sound of boots
hitting the hard floor.
Running from door to door.

Trying to find me
as I hide in the very last one,
desperately waiting
and hoping for them to give up.

Shutting my eyes tight,
hugging my knees to my chest.

I hear angry shouts and noises
coming from down the hall,
the sounds echoing,
bouncing off the walls.

Then nothing.
The silence is just as deafening
as their screams.

Quietly walking to the door,
bracing myself.
I unlock it
then open it very slowly.

Yanking it open
at the last second.
Shutting my eyes,
my body tense.


Waiting for something to happen
but nothing comes.
Bit by bit my eyes open,
hoping to see nothing.

The only thing I can see
is the single candle lit
outside my door.
My only light source.

The cold looming hallway,
left and right
no light left behind
as it was consumed by darkness.

The last light
getting smaller and smaller.
Watching it as it gives out,
leaving me.

'Til I'm surrounded
by darkness itself.
Going back to my comfort,
Closing and locking my door.

The door shielding me
From the outside world.
Hidden away from others
Who try to break me.

Trying to find a way
To find me.
Never-ending halls
Countless doors.

'Til next time
all lights turn back on.
Only darkness
can't be reached.

Darkness left
and light can't shine
to help.

My only time source
Is the light and dark.
Mornings lit like candles,
nights eaten away by darkness.

Leaving my door open
F\from early morning
'til late afternoon.

Locking my door
from late afternoon
'til the next
early morning.

A repeated cycle,
An unbreakable chain,

Til I'm
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2210454