Wooden,
hardened,
treated as a door with none but emptiness beyond.
Walk through me, pass through the scented door.
Cherish the ever so little sanctuary the door provides.
Hold dear to the beautiful scents of the door.
A door holds no lasting imprint on those walking through it,
yet every grip on the handle leaves a stain.
Some are what you carry along,
others merely a passerby.
How have I gone from one to the other?
Taught by life, for if your back is to a wall, none must stab it.
How must I live when eternal bonds know not the path to my heart?
Forever stained by the shadow of solidarity,
protected from the burning warmth I once craved,
bare to the cold I once hated.
Truly, time is all.
idk what it is but it's what i feel about graduating