This sound is not a sound I know
This sound is a claim that I didn`t know?
This sound... A broken bond or a warning from family?
I hope that I can shield my heart from a subtle thieving spree
It knocks on and on, looking for a way back in my words
Twisting the knob, it makes the hands that swing the shadows my way swing back
Punching the doorway, the sounds state that I am a gummy candy
Easy to mold, break, chew, soft
..The tapping is, annoying
This sound, tap again it does
This sound, tapping louder than before
Tipping the scale hasn`t been easy, but this tapping thinks that I`m hiding
This sound acts..as if I am a gem
The frame gets weaker all the time, I`m not afraid, just annoyed
The cracks on the door cannot be more clear, but firm this rapping roars
Not just the door or the clawing of the booing goring in my doorway, but my soul as I hold back
The pain unknown to the visitor, they claim to help me, but I see their intent
....The tapping feels... Greedy
The sound is no longer a tap....
A strange way to make my eyes gleam
A strange way to make my lens glare
The sound takes a deep breath, for it believes something that I never would have doubted first
If being was meant to be insensitive, how wide should innocence appear?
Does the door have to be a sign of fear, as tough as steel?
Would it really need to be a windy gate that swings back at all?
The neighbors seem to think about this; some are across, tapping at the thought
~That tapping is fading
As I wake up to the eerie noise again, all I see is black
The door, it is open
No visitor, no noise, no sign of the sheltered swindle trying to scare me back into another contract
Black isn`t some end of day, some doomsday; the tapping--- it lied
It was never about this door that keeps me safe from the horrors in my mind
It was never about that fear that I can`t move on alone, without being braver than the door itself
Although, the crescendo was right about one thing, I get to choose how I get robbed
As I question this mess of piled strings, I must look foolish for being weak
Being weak however, may be in fact being afraid of being right