Steps echo in the distance,
Pitter, patter
As I turn my head forward, leaving
Accustomed to the silence in my wake,
Eyes closed to the path that lays ahead.

Gazing at the floor beneath,
Avoiding my surroundings;
Unnerved,
And yet these surroundings are pounding
At my front door.
I twist the locked **** carelessly
And consistently
Uncaring of my discomfort.
Tiring
Repetitive and yet
Refining.
Lock me out or I'll continue
To open these doors

Silence
At the front door
To which I open again,
Pitter patter
Spinning the threads of
Chaos again.