I was at deaths door,
But I wasn't walking through,
Everything piled against it
Wood and nails,
Chest of draws,
Kitchen sink,
Where did that come from??
As long as I'm this side
I don't care anymore.
I have kept them from coming
I hear them knocking,
My soul wanted,
Bodies worm food now
So cant go back there no more.
I will not go through
I will never walk through
Darkness,
Light,
What ever waits for me
They not having my soul,
I sit against it
I feel it its neither warm or cold.
But what I don't realise
Is that I was already through
That my soul passed through,
The door was jut a metaphor.
Some thing I would understand
No one escapes,
No one hides,
Once you leave the meat,
Your soul had its foot
Through the door.
And which ever way you go,
Your stepped  through
Before you could even lock the door..