Keys

I opened the magic door engraved into the Victorian wall and saw a key

I opened the magic door and picked up the keys from the centre of the floor

I opened the magic door and opened another door with the keys from the place within the magic door

I opened the magic door then another door and saw keys in the centre of the floor and another door

I opened the magic door within the magic door inside the magic door and found a key in the centre of the floor

I opened the magic door within the magic door inside the magic door and picked up the key in the centre of the floor and used it to open another door

I opened the magic door within the magic door inside the magic door that had swallowed yet another door, and found no keys in the centre of the floor

I opened the magic door within the magic door inside the magic door that had swallowed another door and found no keys in the centre of the floor but I found an open door at the edge of the floor

I opened the magic door within the magic door inside the magic door that had swallowed another door and found no keys in the centre of the floor but I found an open door at the edge of the floor

I opened the magic door and it wasn’t magic anymore it was cursed and in the ever-growing loop I was dying of thirst.

-By Beth Marshall

One thought on “Keys”

  1. I really like this poem it isn’t similar to any other poem I have read before and very unexpected. – Maisie B

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