The lift

Poem

The stairwells off limits
in my writers block
shoes worn to the sole soul
racing against the clock

stuck in this lift 
since April Fifth
the lights went out
in dark, therewith 

the buttons, unlit
the doors, jammed tight
no way to tell
the day, from night 

no matter how
my palms did slam
where I stood
was, where I am

no matter how
my voice did shout
searching walls
to let it out

trapped in steel
asking - why?
is this where poets 
go to die

between floors
buried in the sky?

third eye nigh dry
two left to cry
bye bye to flying high
by my 
undeveloped wing … 

wait … a sound …
a …
*PING!*

- the doors creak open - 
blue sky, all around
take a leap
risk hitting the ground

or, stay in this rhymers keep …

I think,
I’ll take the leap.

© Darius the Mate 24-05-2022