Doorstep

I am the door she ran through; Broken, off the hinges, jammed in place I lie on the floor that once brushed off my shoulders Unable to move as I stare at the ceiling Watching her walk away as she steps over me For, I was just an obstacle for her to clear Life's view is narrowed by my perspective Looking for a quick pick me up My dead weight is too heavy for the weak to lift Easy has left me when difficult moved in I need to fix my splints and oil my hinges