The door stares back at me, laughing at me.
I've no nerve to approach it, and it knows,
though everyone is tugging me along,
everyone is on the other side whispering back
come along, come along now.
But there will always be a red stain upon that door;
a mark like a hand-print slapped across its face,
scratches from fingernails along the handle.
currently listening to: Rabbit Heart by Florence + The Machine