Poetry written by a Borderline

The Paradox

The corridor is endless,

the nights are long.

What doors I open,

what does it matter?

They are all the same!

I see her,

I see me,

on the other side.

She looks afraid.

She looks hopeless.

She looks distraught.

She looks heartbroken-

And she is still in the corridor.

There is no true way,

to escape my purgatory.

Every path promises a change,

freedom,

escape,

but alas.

We are where we were before.

I pray to God to free me,

but he has turned away.

I beg myself to find the escape,

but hope has long deserted me.

The corridor before me is never-ending,

and every door is false,

but what choice do I have-

than to keep my paradox alive?