Free Poem by Hannah Shier

You see that open door right there?
You do?
I don't.

For me, it's closed.

That door? It's locked; chained, bolted, sealed - use whatever word you want. It's guarded by a sixteen foot tall black Cerebus, poison flowing from its snarling mouth as its piercing, blood shot, wild eyes glare into mine, stare, as its jaws snap, growl, foam, pointed teeth gnashing.

I cringe.

I cringe, I fear, I cower:

I can't leave.

You know that door?
That door right there?
You do?
I don't.

For me, it's closed.

I can't leave.