WILDCALM

Green Doors

In corridors, behind green doors
the human race will slide away
For all we know
the ground beneath
could shift us to another plane
We can only hear the birds
The clunks and clinks of chambers closing
Voices thrown
down the halls
The whirr of fans and frantic mice
Discarded like our meaning,
all those perfect dates and times
Just numbers once, now empty ‘thank yous’
and an unmet glance.
 
 

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