The Door: Inhaling the Grasp
Deceiving Death was Her only option.
Cold and torn, She ran towards the Door.
Blankness all around, tightening at Her throat.
Restriction of air came to no surprise,
Still, She panicked and tried to lean on the Door’s side
Occupying space was of no affliction.
It was Her untamed heart that needed the Door’s attention.
Light did not escape through the gap, yet She knew that it was there.
Her grasp was merely a trap.
Standing, She was not alone for the Door,
Although torn,
was her mirror and her escape.
Opening the Door was the problem, broken hands conflicted Her fate.
Hesitation restricted what limbs still functioned to be still.
If only She could kill,
kill what’s inside, kill the protruding rot.
With the wind pulsating through Her veins She grasped the warm brass knob,
twisting and turning, It opened not,
but with only the handle in Her hand,
She became alive again.
Cold and torn, She ran towards the Door.
Blankness all around, tightening at Her throat.
Restriction of air came to no surprise,
Still, She panicked and tried to lean on the Door’s side
Occupying space was of no affliction.
It was Her untamed heart that needed the Door’s attention.
Light did not escape through the gap, yet She knew that it was there.
Her grasp was merely a trap.
Standing, She was not alone for the Door,
Although torn,
was her mirror and her escape.
Opening the Door was the problem, broken hands conflicted Her fate.
Hesitation restricted what limbs still functioned to be still.
If only She could kill,
kill what’s inside, kill the protruding rot.
With the wind pulsating through Her veins She grasped the warm brass knob,
twisting and turning, It opened not,
but with only the handle in Her hand,
She became alive again.
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