There's a knock on the door

Like the squeak of a mouse

So silent and small

Probably nothing, nothing at all

There's a knock at the door

Like the quick winding river

Very rushed and fervent

Is it urgent? I must have misheard it

A knock at the door

Dark to the core

I've heard it before

Tis the raven, nevermore

A slamming, now overcomes the door

The cry of a lost love

Such sorrows do squeeze the heart

Is no one there to spread these doors apart?

The knockings continue

Yet these doors remain shut.

Oh how I wish to spread these frames

But reality puts me in a rut

For I am the door

And nothing more.

But I am the door.