I walked past the door,
the door with crimes.
The door that was brown
with black lines.
I walked further down,
the hall of crimes.
I walked past more doors,
the doors who screamed cries.
I walked to the end of the hall,
to see the light of the day.
The window that showed,
the light,
was old and cracked gray.
So this poem is about,
The light at the end.
The light that shows the past of the future.
The future yet to discovered,
the past yet to be forgotten.
Abstract Poem.
