Dear friend,

While I’m uploading most of my poems as chapters in Empathy, and other poems, a few of them seem just too special not to have a place of their own. This is one of those: it’s actually my earliest rhyming poem, and I was absurdly proud when I wrote it. Ah, the innocence of youth, eh?

Comments are, as always, appreciated.

Yours,

Bitter Irony

My Open Door

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When the day has been too long and hard

I crave for something more

When the once paved road is rough and marred

you're my open door

When my soul is heavy, bruised and cut

I'm broken at the core

You pick my shattered pieces up

you're my open door

With every new beginning

and with every different route

when my cold heart is breaking

when my mind is filled with doubt

when I want to keep on fighting

when I yearn to change the score

You take all my hurt away

You're my open door