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?