The 2 A.M Writer

Door

They always said you could never close that door

I begged and boasted that I could

But after half a life of leaking eyes

I may accept I can never shut this wood

Give me the pill that supposed to salvage me

And with this pill comes reason right?

But no form of drug can ever grow a flower so dire

Nothing can craft the one needed light

My birth has only served as mediocre at best

Shadowed by countless points of falling

When I found out it was me who had to be my savior

Only then did I realize it was pointless to keep calling

...