An amateurs poetry


There’s a door in the way

between me and my day

and it’s large and it’s tall

and it’s colored dull grey.

There’s no lock on the door,

no need for a key

so why, or why, won’t the door let me free?


There’s stairs to go down

And what if you fall?

It’s cold outside

And that is not all


There’s people and people

Who smile and laugh

You stay in, alone

Enjoy a nice bath.


Look what you’re wearing,

Oh my you’re so fat!

You think you’ve stopped caring?

Well I have doubt about that.


The door speaks in a voice so persuasive and true

that I sigh at the door and kick off my shoe

no outside for me today,

no thank you, I’m fine,

I’ll stay tucked up inside

never crossing that line.


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