The Bottom Shelf Review

The key’s in the lock.

The handle won’t turn.

The metal doesn’t click.

The lock doesn’t budge.

And the damn door won’t open.

The outside is damaged,

chips and rust cloaking its shine,

bits and pieces of grey

cover the ground, dust of the past.

 

What happened?

Wasn’t it brand new just the other day,

paint all in place, lock working just fine?

Always open and welcome.

 

What changed?

Instead of letting me in,

It’s shutting me out.

In the cold.

In the rain.

In the dark.

By myself.

The dark that’s now empty,

No one to see me,

No one to help me,

No one to tell me what I did,

What made the lock stick,

And the damn door not open?

 

I’ve tried everything,

but nothing will work.

This job was never meant for one,

instead it needs two.

Two people to meld it back into shape.

Two people to make it turn the right way

 

Two people to make this damn door open.

 

I can’t do it alone, but

no one will help.

I must not be welcome,

not anymore.

 

The key’s in the lock.

The handle won’t turn.

The metal doesn’t click.

The lock doesn’t budge.

 

And this damn door needs to open.