Through the door

Through the cyan door you might find,

A ragged river racing to get to the shore,

The sky surrounded by white fluffy like cotton candy drifting in a fair,

The school you went to with the same blue paper towels trying to top the mop,

A sad blue bell begging for a friend being balled and laughed at eventually didn’t bother believing he would find one.

Through the red door there could be 

A sunset suddenly switching sides of the planet 

An inrrageded soul calming down and appologising

Or a wave of anger washing over you forcing you to slam the door shut 

Through the yellow door you’ll probably find

A bright light shining like a dieing star shimering in a slow night sky,

A bananana and piece of corn bonding like brothers,

Or a happy face flying faithfuly through the flureshing forest 

Through the orange door maybe there’ll be

The flame of all the devils victims dancing there ways down to hell,

An orange rolling of the tip of the table top like a ball rolling down a hill,

Or a jack’o’lantern lit on all hallows night waiting till midnight to strike.

Through the lilac door I think there is,

A purple tulip laying on the floor smelling like the finest flower found,

Some very angry teacher having a prank pulled on them,

Or the lavender hand sanitiser that always looks nice but smells horrible

The tint green door I know for a fact there is,

A timid boy hiding in the corners of his head invisible to all others,

An overgrown forest creating new species of plant to heal the earth,

A tennis ball bouncing around the court like a bunny hopping its way home.