@Julsijuls 17 December 2021 more from that month

[ a poem by Julsijuls ] 'And so it begins again.' The morning is a door. And so is the afternoon the evening and the midnight also. And in each door I enter a different room disappear from the previous one and then, and then exist in another shade of room. In the room for mornings the sun would be on the right a soft yellow It's warm it paints the walls and my heart and my skin; in that room I am new I am joyous. The next door a metal one, a heavy one has a burning knob it is an angry red it burns my skin it hurts my eyes. The sun is in the middle scorching and dry it is noon and it kills the joy the warmth. They are replaced with anger and with burns. And so i run. I pushed open a door wooden and dark cold and stiff and the room lacks light it was dark, it was freezing it was night. My wounds healed they cooled down and my skin turned pale my skin ashen white. My body felt heavy like the door, so hard to push hard to move and my bones creak too like old hinges of vintage doors. And there's a final door, like the one for a cell and the metals are shiny like the stars. And beyond the door inside the room, the sun looks at me it stared and waits and waits waits... until sleep creeps in and turn me into a puddle of dreams and swirls until something would lift me— (cold and warm and soft) until I could fit in the gaps. And I was delivered in the room the first one and it's a new day. #writing #literature #originalcontent #original Image from https://pin.it/2yh9BuB