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Thursday, January 15, 2009

Knock Knock

There was a knock on the door and I did not want to open it for the one outside.
It grew more painful and the door started to crack.
But I did not budge.
The door stood its ground and the knock grew louder.
I started crying and the voice outside told me to relax.
There was nothing for me to worry about.
Because the knock was only gentle.
The problem was it was incessant and gnawing away at the solid wood.
I cried more and I got angry
I broke the window with my clenched fist - I had punched it down.
The voice heard that and retreated.
But soon after, the sweet voice was heard again; urging me to open the door.
I shouted and howled and the voice got scared.
But the knock was heard still.
Here I lie, adamant and foolish.
I did not want the voice in.
I did not.
I hated the knock - I HATED it.
I believe the knocks have stopped but in my head the plea is still heard with the same definition.
It has not gone away.
It is playing tricks with me.
I will not believe the silence.
I will not.

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