There are rooms in the mind
we haven't entered in years.
Some hold memories.
Some hold wounds.
Some hold versions of ourselves
we thought we'd buried.
And then there are the halls...
Those long, dim corridors
where you keep walking
because you're afraid
to open the next door.
-
Author:
– NoeticNonsense (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 29th, 2026 17:36
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1

Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.