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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2022014
Short Poem
I walk down this long lonely corridor every day.
I look at the doors, I wonder.
I exist in here. I can keep walking; I can go through a door.
But what's on the other side could be worse.
So I stay, I walk, when people walk by I smile.
I hide. I pretend,
But inside
I'm dead.



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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2022014-The-Doors