An easy entry to the world.
It has always watched.
It waits.
Still there.
Seems now a good friend.
That once-foreboding door.
A few steps.
A swift wrist.
Outside.
A possibility.
A possible lie.
No other home.
The only other option.
It remains.
Frustrated.
Unsure to finally leave.
Unsure to open the door.
Unsure to move.
It remains.
The unbreakable glass house.
Inside.
An inevitability.
An inevitable truth.
It waits.
Waits for the moon.
So as to begin waiting for the sun.
Submitted: November 15, 2009
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