lackluster dreamings

closed doors

In my mind, there is a door. Behind it there is a person. Closed off from my life, shut out for the better. No matter how hard they pound at the door, it is locked, bolted, glued shut. There are boards covering all the holes by which they escaped earlier and came back into my life, no matter how hard I tried to shut them out. I have been hurt before by them, a mass of vines burrowing their way into me, making it harder to cut them out the longer they stay. I have tried, over and over again, blind to the reality of the hurt they cause. Recently I have seen the light. I have seen their manipulative nature, how every time I twist and turn, trying to get away, they burrow their roots deeper into me. So I took a knife. I hacked and sawed, and cut off every last inch. And now the door is closed for good, and will never open again.