The Battered Door : A Gloom Sonnet
It’s an old door battered and worn by time,
Still shut against the violence and crime
That ravages the neighborhood around
With screams and shots and siren’s wailing sound.

What is beyond this portal midst chaos?

There are no numbers to define local
Nothing noteworthy about it at all,
A well worn handle and lock holds it shut,
Along a wall of dirt, grim, and of soot

What is beyond this portal midst chaos?

Oh what might you dream about that place is,
A refuge or a pleasant oasis,
Perhaps nothing more than an empty room,
Where in dwells despair and lingering gloom.

Gloom
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