My shot at Poetry

The Three Doors

It was more than just a vague dream.

I stood, staring at three doors,

Three ways to live my life.

I could choose any one,

But which one was it going to be?

I looked in through the fist door.

Not knowing what to expect,

In there I saw myself, a loser in every respect.

I was doing whatever I wanted,

The others taking me for granted.

I was suffering and so were they,

I hoped there would be another way.

I then peeked in through the second door.

Tentative, wondering what I’d find behind the screen,

I again saw myself living someone else’s dream.

I was doing whatever they wanted,

The others still took me for granted.

I was suffering and so were they,

I again hoped there would be another way.

I then barged in through the third door.

Not caring if the sky was grey or blue,

I again saw myself, among a friend or two.

They lived my life and I lived theirs’,

We all worked in unison like gears.

I helped them, they helped me,

This was exactly the way it was supposed to be!

-Mayank Singh