Closed Door
Behind the door
Lies the balm
To my heart sore
That refuses to be calm
I stretch my arms
To fling it open
But the qualm
Forces my limbs to soften
I squirm, I fret
The lack of steel
Pushes me into
The cavern of regret
The forces opposite
Squash my breath
I gasp like the fish
On the verge of death
I beg for mercy
Knowing my sin
To be born
With no strength within
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
