I’ve built an empty corridor
As far as my eyes can see
Along each side a row of solid doors
Doors to which I’ve thrown away the key
Mommy taught me well
To keep their contents secret
I was told to never tell
each room contained regret
I keep them in the attic
While I dwell merely one floor below
In my prison with walls so thick
The morning sun can never glow
In my self-made prison cell
I keep a smile upon my face
I wear it so that no one can tell
I’ve all but given up the race
My prison now feels like a tomb
It’s the worst loss I’ve ever known
You see the setting is my living room
And it’s purpose in my life that I have let go
I walk that lonely corridor alone and cold
The oaken doors weathered with age
And even though they still are closed
I can still feel all the hurt and locked up rage
With every breath I took
I tried to earn her heart
I never let anyone near enough to look
I promised her I’d keep them in the dark
One by one the locks are beginning to fail
I cannot kill them or make them go away
All my demons are free sail
And slowly I have lost my way
When I finally lock myself away
Behind those weathered doors
I will look to her and say…
See mommy, I really was your good girl
each and every day.
By Debbie Hawthorne
