Wrong Room

The hurt that I feel,
Is more than on my face.
It goes deep inside,
To that dark hidden place.

That place where hope dies,
And care has stopped moving.
Where rain dares not go,
For fear of never leaving.

Warmth may never come,
To this tomb called regret.
Its power has faded,
Once strong, now is dead.

The lone prisoner sits,
Marking time long forgotten.
What? A noise, is it...
Is that someone at the door?

Does someone care?
Are they coming here to help?
Will I finally hear,
Kind words of acceptance?

Handle turns slowly,
The door holds, then opens.
Time pauses in stagnant air,
A shadow stands at the door.

Waning strength rushes,
To an arm lying in my lap.
Rising slowly in hope,
A finger points to the face.

Eyes of the stranger,
Widen in silent recognition.
The heart jumps,
Breath quickens and then he relaxes.

The door begins to close,
Leaving the stagnant moment behind.
One solitary voice,
Echoes down years and brings pain to this heart...

"Wrong Room!"

 

by writer-illustrator (Viewed 195 times)

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