The Challenge

Inside the room, inside the silence, the still, the cold, the abyss.
Wooden floors echo wooden walls.
Wooden walls hold a door, but what good is the door when it's locked?
Try turning it, try breaking it, do whatever you want, so long as the key's missing, your not getting out and you not free.
The world shows how cruel it can be, providing a window but nearly entirely covered by blinds. Peek around them, you'll see joy. People running with laughter, laughter that is not yours, joy that exists not to you, and all you will ever do is look. 
Try being happy, happy by yourself, in the dark, lonely, in the abyss.
People try helping you, but they can get to you from behind the door.
Because not even THEY can break it down.
It's up to you
to realize
the key
was in your pocket all along
whether you choose to use it
and be free
but with a price
will you ever be fully, truly, and wholly happy. 

Author's Note

just a free write, very amatuer

Reviews

[C. C. Burl]

No, it's very lovely, I like it. ('Amateur' describes my work, not yours!)
Sometimes I feel like that, like I'm all locked up and alone and everybody else is just living their own wonderful life . . . but you know, it's really just me sitting there and making myself miserable. I'm just too scared to open the door . . .