Deep on the edge of thought
Trapped...No....contained in thought
Searching....searching but for what, only the labyrinth of my mind
except that wooded door, that oak wooden door at
the end of my subconsciousness
the one that's freshly engraved with the intricate road map,
the personal lines of my scars.
the door with the brassy silver knob, no longer shiny and perfect,
but still beautiful in in its imperfections.
Am I afraid? Very much so...
What is behind that door, the one so beautiful with the faint glow of light underneath.
So beautiful
The happiness I fear to digest.
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