Prison Poem by Zander William Pearson

A door is closed.
Locked.
I’ve just left it.
Changed my mind.

But it will not open.
Voices say leave,
Forget.

Leave.

I ignore, but the lock will not open
The door is closed.
Till I find the key.
Which may be never.

Someone else may have it already.
Or it is lost, for someone to find.
But not me.

For there are many doors.
And I am left in the hallway.
Unsure.
Confused.

Regretting my decisions.
Confined in my mistakes.
Do I try each door,
To find the right?

Or will I someday find a key.
That will lead me
To the door of my freedom.
From this prison of myself.