Friday, September 4

slow motion

there's a door to my heart i'm stuck behind,
i once peered through the rusted lock.
i saw the world for what it was
then turned my gaze back to the clock.
content but not quite satisfied, 
fulfilled but not all there
the colors just aren't quite bright enough
to make me stop and stare.
i feel transfixed inside myself,
trapped in but peering out.
the beauty i see makes me want to be
around, within, about. 
but i can't be seen about the world
in this old unsightly frock...
now the motion is slow, i must stop and go,
as i walk to my door, and knock. 

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