Shut Door

Shutting the door on the past,

it's tough.

All the memories resurface,

nowhere to hide.

Those internal wounds ache and sting,

a daily torment.

I hold scolding rocks,

pleading for a sliver of faith,

nowhere to turn,

caught in the chaos of their works.

Everything, everyone, halted.

The present lost all meaning,

like some cold scientific equation,

mixed with other chemicals.

This reaction needs time

to fully bloom

on the surface, suffocated,

where only I exist, alone.

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Thank you for reading!