3 Doors

Homestead, love-loss, disparity.
Plunder.
Hell is not beneath my walls,
but the street that burns with larceny. They will wave at you
wided grinned as respect holds a solemn face.
We stand in the row.
l noticed without any parade.
These doors open,
and they can sometimes be locked tight despite any circumstance.
Double bolt the welcome of some.
Hold open others with arms willing to share pain.
3 doors.
As I sat on the stoop of one
love loss came.
Bewildered, disdained,
remembering what barely remained.
I begged for entrance and now I'm stuck in the street
Desperation emanates.
The padlock cracks...
short-lived... goodbye.
2 doors remain.
One empty but comforting
the other filled with dread.
How is it that one saw your worth as the other push you under the doormat?
I knocked on all three.
Some said it wasn't my place to determine whether I was a stranger.
Ironic entrance awaits as I stood looking at each direction.
The gatekeeper nods and I look willingly and an entrance I've already been through.
3 doors, 3 ways to manipulate how I should feel.
Take a small sympathetic invite while you can because the other portals are both literally and metaphorically empty.