The darkened corridor beckons

Doors open with promise of fortune

Peril hides behind the veil

A schoolhouse

Voices assail from all directions

A harsh voice and a heavy hand

Casts a shadow across my brow

Across the bruise of my discontent

Vultures perch, eager for my fall

The tender flesh to prey and devour

Leave my bones in an empty bed

To speak what ifs in the shadow of my failure

And wonder what went wrong

The doors beckon

Uttering words of sweet premonition

Some get more than one

But to most there is only one chance

Point of no return

A needle or a briefcase

Door #1

A typewriter, industrial strength

Perfect for bashing heads open

Door #2

Decisions decisions decisions

Cubicle monkey or industrial whore?

Door #3

Sounds tempting

I make my decision

The door slams shut behind me