The Riddle's Metaphors

I was running from a riddle's metaphors In a house constructed without doors I kept running into rooms where I had already been Now the soles on my boots are wearing thin Speeding up is the only option I've yet to try Sanity has been obscured by my runner's high An echoing noise I fear I shall hear forevermore Are the sounds of salty tears peppering the floor My mind's pencil was having trouble drawing breaths And my tank was running on the vapors fuel had left The slick saline solution that covered the ground Ironically took its creator down Slipping on a teardrop I landed next to the truth Only to find that is was lacking couth It's sophistication was riddled with holes As if a chunk of swiss were at the controls I ease towards the cheese on the set trap I grab the holy truth and I hear a, SNAP! ____________________________________________ For the contest : I slipped on a teardrop and landed..... Sponsored by : Cindi Rockwell Written on : Summer Solstice 2016