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Stuff that comes to my head
just stuff that comes to my head
A poem
Past The Exit

Through the opening and closing doors
Past many filled rooms
Those silent, empty hallways
Smell of cleaniless and dread

Some doors are locked
And corridors are blocked
So slowly does stress come
And your panic starts to rise

Past many exits you can't go through
And places that vanish from sight
You are guided along with open doors
To a place that is not known






User Comments: [1] [add]
The Wrath Of Senatobi
Community Member
avatar
commentCommented on: Mon Mar 28, 2011 @ 12:52am
wow it cool i didnt u wrote poems


User Comments: [1] [add]
 
 
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