Sorry in advance if this is a bit amateurish. I rarely venture into poetry, which is why I respect other peoples work so much. But this little foray may do me some good. Consider it an exercise.
A little drop of pain can trickle down through the years,
Traces written on your face and memory... a sad memento,
They say time is not gentle, reminding us of shadows,
Making us forget there too was light.
And yet, in this place of corrosion and decay,
Doors await the key that unlocks them,
Tis’ a fool that fears this room of lost treasure,
Tis’ a fool that sees not doorways in the darkness.
Thav
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