Scratches at the door sounding around the house
The door becoming splinters as the bangs become louder.
The screams becoming clearer but I stay still
Sitting in the chair right in front of the door
Gripping the arms so tight my knuckles and fingers bleed.
My heart beating so fast but I can't stop
The itch never being scratched
The door bursts open
And standing in a figure
A black figure that well my heart with joy but fear consumes me
What do I feel, what do I have that it wants.The door lead me to happiness but happiness with pain
