BEHIND THE NASTY, WORN-OUT DOOR

When I pull back the curtains

To unveil a nasty, worn-out door

Instead of a pretty window with

Sunlight infiltrating through the glass

And seeping through the beautiful view

Of pretty flowers and freshly mowed grass

I don't expect to see still, what I know

Is inside the rickety, run-down room

Behind the nasty, worn-out door.

It takes me in disbelief and surprise

And I have to take a moment to reprise

My previous role as a caretaker 

I was here to clean up and straighten out

The room that had never seen better days

Diligently caging the omens of former times

Desperately trying to help change the past

As if it was a beloved, honourable  craft

Even though there was no way it could last.

As I entered the room, it began to shake 

With memories of the past in its wake.

I saw shadows of the man who had

Followed me in the empty street

As I heard nothing but the quick pace

Of my tiny, tired childhood feet.

I ran and ran until I couldn't anymore

Away from the man and away from

The horrors of what could have been

Had I stayed unmoving and frightened

To be seen, to be used and rattled

As if women are just toys to be played with

As stubborn as I was to sweep the baggage

Present in this rickety, run-down room

I had not expected to be affected this way

By a new man's face that had locked his

Lustful gaze on my body that I had so

Happily decorated for myself that day

Similar faces were staring at me here and there

Overwhelming me with disgust and dread

But I thought I was used to it along with

So much more that was worse than this

Even though there was a good reason

To be terrified, and threatened by this.

As quickly as I had entered, I rushed out

Of the rickety, run-down room

Behind the nasty, worn-out door

And sat on the floor of my room

Where comfort lies, away from the horrors

Of life, this society and this world.