The Door,

only one side is known

Opened the door to find the circle still in it’s cycle, eyes widen, but words carry no weight.

The doorway widens in hope of breaking routine, only to hold account the act of innocence on repeat.

As the door creaks in and the pedestal becomes weak, you’ll finally see how living life in phrases is jumping with no land below and expecting to safely descend.

Peeking in, seeing that nothing ever changes, and our puzzles only rearrange.

That our lives are fragile, and if we aren’t careful we will be left without a question or even a message to remember our name.

Close the god damn door.
One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.