I might come back to this poem another time and try to really flesh out what I had been mentally going for, but it's not a priority.
"If I don't have a key or code, how would I get in anyway? –a riddle"
There is a little door
Pastel blue wood, bearing a curly black cast iron knocker, a slim handle and skeleton hole
Tucked delicately into a tree
And there is a big door
Blackened bronze, wearing knobbed and carved ancient battles, no visible mode of entry
Guarding a dark fortress
Where do I live?