When I was young,
My mother used to hum a lullaby,
Singing,
A heart is a door, open it for me,
A heart is a door, let me break free
From my chains and let me into you.
She used to chant,
Her voice echoing and resonating,
Dreaming,
A heart is a door, open it for me,
A heart is a door, I am your key.
Unlock yourself and reveal your room.
She used to whisper,
Her voice a gentle embracing lilt,
Shimmering,
A heart is a door, can only opened by one,
A heart is a door, let me be the tree,
That grows inside your soul's room as "she".
You used to say,
Your voice slow and slithering in,
Crawling,
A heart is a door, I am your key.
A heart is a door, you are not mine.
How naive to think I would let you shine.
And then you slammed it in my face.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of Pain and Solitude
PoetryFor every person out there that was quiet, not because they chose to be so, but because they were choking in the smoke. Because their opinions were apparently not worth anything. Because they didn't know just how to say what they felt. For every per...
