Every night,
In my dreams,
I see
A locked door.
An old door
With an old lock,
Which no one ever opened,
And they should not.
The door speaks to me
In a soothing voice:
“Son, don’t open me;
You will lose all choice.”
Her dreamy voice
Takes on a hard tone:
"The life you gloat of
Is about battling storms.
You battle storms
Even on sunny days.
People say you are a winner
And ask you to show them the way.
Peace will flood your senses
Once you open the door.
There will be no storm to battle;
Where will the winner go?"
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Author:
Rebellion In Sanity (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 12th, 2024 00:30
- Comment from author about the poem: I harbour a deep resentment against the social classification of Winner and Losers. The interpretion of the message in the poem is of course up to the reader.
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 6
Offline)
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