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At The Door

At The Door

A Poem by Jeff Bresee

Curled up in the corner,

in dead of the night.

Afraid of darkness

and praying for light.


Eyes peer from the ceiling.

Hands reach from the floor.

Hearts beat from the walls,

and he stands at the door.


No chemical shields me.

No masquerade hides.

The sweat of my body,

the fear in my eyes.


He’s pounding and pounding

and growing in strength.

He’s growing in hunger,

and looking for prey.


He whispers to call me

from deep in my mind.

With lies and with luring

each weakness he finds.


But I know what he wants,

yes I know where it leads.

I’ve scars to remind me

of all the past deeds.


But the door he can’t open,

and that’s why he calls.

So I’m curled in the corner…

afraid that I’ll fall.

© 2020 Jeff Bresee

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Added on January 13, 2020
Last Updated on January 13, 2020
Tags: addiciton, vise


Jeff Bresee
Jeff Bresee

Dallas, TX

I love to write poetry and then turn it into songs. I am a singer/songwriter for Weathered Pages, a Fort Worth, Texas based music charity. Check us out at And I hope you .. more..