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My Thoughts
May 2, 2013
I am a door
Holding back a storm
With rough chipped paint
A smell of splintered wood
Much like Holden Caulfield
I am afraid of the world
A door holding back the sun
Darkness trapped
The world shouting
Because of broken arms I must write
Of a world of pale gold
I create a shield to protect the world
I will save them from me
My silent explosions
My brain screaming
But me silent
This door rough and frayed
But still holding
© Samantha H., Savannah, GA
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