I have built a door

Deep where no one will know,

A place covered in vines and

Trees; a place no one will go.

Even I, myself, find that

It is hard to look upon,

And harder still to imagine

As formless creatures bodies don.

These things once were

Memories and feelings felt,

Though now have metamorphosed

To poker hands poorly dealt.

I could see sunshine in the forest

On days the skies were clear,

But now I am afraid, for clouds

don’t break; a storm draws near.

So strongly lightning’s thrown,

And thunder shakes the land,

That now I wonder what will come

If the door is opened by my hand,

And I place my fingers

‘Round the knob, and squeeze,

Twist, and watch it open,

And as it swings, I freeze.

‘Neath layers of broken promises,

Fortune’s failings, chances lost,

I spy a familiar face in hiding

That I once was quick to accost:

I see myself under siege,

Cowering, whimpering;

I move to help myself,

But find that I am fleeing.

My legs carry me through

Swamps and pointy forest ground,

Into the heart of darkness,

Where the problem’s center is found.

Here I lie, with broken teeth,

Unable to speak, or even breathe,

And as my assassins converge on me,

My final thought rings: “At least I am free.”