Some doors are ajar, open wide

To let some light, fresh air inside

Some just hang, swinging aside

The moment one, wants to pass

Some open as you barely knock

Some need to be kicked really hard

Some are shut tightly locked

Or boarded up with thick planks

Most will open, given some time

Keys turning in, planks swept aside

The one’s are lost, that never find

Keys they had hid, placed somewhere

They keep on pacing retracing steps

In dark and dingy room of their mind

Reciting repeating few songs they know

In a jaded forlorn yet ceremonial tone