Amnesia

this one doesnt make perfect sense, but ohwell

There’s a lock on the door—

A gold-chained lock,

All shined

And spotless

Like birthday cake before the knife comes down for the first time.

There’s a lock on the door—

The door that’s never been opened before.

            And behind the door,

            There is the steady

            D

            R

            I

            P

Of year-long rain that

Has been trapped

And locked away

Behind the door,

Behind the birthday-cake, golden-lock.

The rain that is locked away

Grows more and more every day,

Waiting—

Plotting—

Building up

For that hypothetical day when

The door that’s never been opened before

Will slowly creak

And slyly slide—

Rebel against the golden lock

And let the Rain Drop River

Free:

A waterfall on the staircase and

Rain on his memory.