Future

Standing near the door,
Reflecting on the days gone by
Plagued by the whats and the ifs of the past,
Worrying about the whens and hows of the future,
Sweat collecting on the brow;
Suffocating on the smell of mould and dirt caking the walls;
Terrified to take a step forward;
Unwilling to step back;
Old demons are catching up to the present;
Escape seems a thing of the past.
Thoughts of surrender flit past the mind,
My strength is giving out.
The future looks grim; life intangible.
I shake off the shackles,
Embrace the inevitable,
And step out the door.