My life seems cut off by a door. <br /> I lay here, dying, with a stare. <br /> I lay here, dying, without a care. <br />And I lie here, dying, on the floor, <br />And Satan yells with such a roar <br /> That brings me from my zombified state <br /> That’s blinded by my growing hate. <br /> <br />It seems this door blocks my way. <br /> It blocks out my darkened heart. <br /> I drift to death; I soon depart, <br /> But I haven’t given up, so why should I start? <br />But perhaps it will open; any day, <br />And take my bleeding soul away. <br /> And leave me with my body and mind. <br /> My hatred now has made me blind. <br /> <br />Because my love seems cut off by a door. <br /> She lays here, dying, with a stare. <br /> She lays here, dying, without a care, <br />That I am sitting on the floor <br /> With my hands upon my head. <br /> And I cry here; now she’s dead. <br /> I cry here because she’s dead.<br /><br />David Wicks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/door/
