I am made of doors.
Many many doors.
Each one smaller than the other.
Each one tighter than another.
I have so many doors I can no longer count
all the ones people have been in and out of,
all I know is that they slam them
when they leave
and leave a mess behind,
along with broken dreams.
And now I am made of locks.
And very few people hold the key
that unlocks the doors that eventually
lead to my heart that has to be reminded to beat because it's be let down too frequently.
The first few doors are flimsy,
you can break them down if you want
My lungs are used to building them back with the air I push out when I'm shout.
The closer you get to the inner workings and creaking machine that lies within my frame, you'll find the door grow thicker and bolder and every one has a name.
Some I call healing, some I call trust,
one I call shame,
but the thickest is love.
If you can break the door down to love,
you've won and I'm open and gaping and done.
I have many doors,
made from the finest experience life can offer,
The smallest one locked up tightest so don't bother.
SK
