The door doesn't open both ways,
My friend. All that enters, stays.
Pieces of you that you left behind,
And oh, dreams, fears and things of that kind.
Broken hearts and forgotten ambitions,
Covert desires and unheeded premonitions.
Conquered fears and those repressed
Memories, in oblivion dressed.
Fleeting moments and those sighs,
Bubbles of joy and such lies.
Loves with long forgotten names,
Jibes, scars, bruises and maims.
The door does not open both ways,
But when you close it, it stays.
Until of course, you decide,
That doors are not meant to hide.
Open that door and march inside,
And sweep all those stale hopes aside.
Dust those cobwebs of disappointments,
And those moth-eaten resentments.
Let the light in; did it ever help to be blind?
Dark corners aren't for your mind.
You're now closer to freedom than ever before,
And it has a lot to do with that broken door.