By Simran Ramsay
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They say that facing a problem,
Is a very challenging thing to do
When there are so many ways out,
Other than the right thing to do.

She knew that when one door closed another opened,
But the difficulty lay in searching from the plenty.
How could she know which knob to turn,
When they all beckoned to her, ”Come reject reality”.

Confusion, conundrum, chaos
Her mind a messy place;
With thoughts ebbing and flowing,
But none that really stayed.

She felt so small, so vulnerable
As she looked at the many doors that stood in her way.
Enticing, inviting her to step in,
For her to find her place. 

Out of the many doors that stood,
Three caught her eye.
The blue one, the colourful one, 
And the one that was dull and dry.

Blue, deep, acidic. The knob was a little wet,
It reeked of strong chemicals that gave her a throb in the head.
The liquid she sipped was bitter and would burn her insides,
Made her lose her balance and speak what’s on her mind.

She felt it comforted her,
She thought it made everything right,
But drowned in a world of blackouts, blurs and slurred words
Was only fun for a while. 

The colourful one she pushed
And right in front of her eyes,
The world distorted, all morals aborted,
And she escaped from the truth.

Injecting, inhaling, swallowing,
Exhaling, smoking, snorting.
What a ruth.

The dull door stood. Perfectly ordinary,
It was mouldy and chipped and when she pushed it, it was heavy.

It made a creaking sound, it was hard to get inside.
Rusted knob, scuffed and battered. Why would she even try?

But its simplicity captivated her. And although drab and plain,
When she stepped in she felt embraced, her and all her mistakes.
Making the right decision is tricky, it’s difficult, it’s gruesome, it’s pain.
But inside, she felt comforted, after she strayed and lost her way…
She knew that her efforts weren’t in vain.

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