Philosophical and Dark Poems

Doors and paths in life, a metaphor for life

*Written 11/14/18*

When you open that door

And go through

There is no going back,

No,

You can only live one View

Of the scene,

Of the room

You find yourself in.

Confronted by those that stand

Within.

Waiting for you,

Like rabid dogs,

Ready to rip you to shreds

At the mere (wrong step) step to the wrong.

You turn back to flee

From the rage that is ahead of thee.

But lo and behold,

The door is gone.

Replaced by a wall

decorated with nothing, none.

Turning front again,

You see,

To the side of the people are more doors.

And they open to thousands more.

Rooms filled with mysterious figures

Ready to pounce on you,

Or pronounce you as their friend.

To no end,

Until you finally die

Alone in one of these rooms.

Those that had pronounced

never came through

But stayed behind.

And what for?

To find nothing

But time,

In a flow towards them

Instead of away,

Such as you seem to be

Stuck in (Macabre)

A flowing quagmire

Followed by the same trials,

Seemingly cursed to this torturous exile.

Things change, don't they?

Not in this land of your pain.

Traveling, alone.

Choosing, alone.

Wandering, alone.

Over and over

Becoming a self fulfilling prophecy.

Oh, if only it was,

You wish.

For there would come a sense of control with it.

But nothing of the sort is true.