They see it.
Oh, how they see it so quickly:
an open door of what's closed.
They do not know what's in there.
Do they take a peek?
Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.
No, they don't.
The emptiness is killing, they say;
the air is poisoned with apathy,
cynicism,
breath of bitter lungs.
Something is not healthy there.
Someone is sick.
But what is?
How can something be stated as sick
when they do not even see what's inside?
Based on instinct, they say.
A precaution of what must not be known.

Then off they go,
leaving the open door
once again locked.