Doors

who are we exactly, in this tortured and bleak coexistence. memories do haunt they follow, relentless tapping when no one sees... doors opened to lands asunder were they the right ones? now covered with clueless as rhythm left us in time, groping around for lost chances blind as a bat in a nuthouse here in the alleyway of strife, mired, stuck tossed to the dark night, again. this stillness is so encompassing stark and foreboding as apprehension and dread slowly creep it's nothing, we say with a swagger a shudder preens and gloats, where is that promise now? that promise we once believed in that promise that once meant, everything...