Doors

Emptiness vibrates and echoes within, somber feelings disappear with each incoming thought, and they continue. What can they take from Nothing? Well, I suppose many things. But sometimes I don’t think they actually take anything. They simply come. Then go. And as they go, they go empty handed. But then why? Why did they even come here in the first place? What was there to gain from entering those doors. Those doors that are so fragile and falling apart already.. Certainly there must be a reason. But as far as what those reasons are, I haven't a clue. It’s cold, and dark, and I embrace it. The Sun blinds and is annoying, so I see no reason to be there where it reaches. Where I have gone and continue to stay is quiet and somber, and cradles my being gently while it seals and protects those doors. Those damned doors so damaged and abused, they've finally been blocked and protected from the unforgiving light. - I find no reason to be hospitable to those who barge and sneak their way past those doors. Why should they be treated special? I did not invite them. And I’m certainly not forgiving of unwanted visitors who leave after they’ve made their mess here… there… wherever the doors may be now, leading to new places called mine. Don’t you dare come through those doors. Don’t even touch them, look at them, think about them. Because in the end no one benefits from you entering, for I will have damaged your doors like you most certainly will have mine. Just. Don’t. You’re not ready. And if you think you are, I guess you’re the type of person, A masochist, who enjoys being ignored, belittled, and given the cold shoulder on a regular basis. Don’t you dare touch my doors. I’m not ready