Winter come with darkness and on the humid outside of your door, the wet wood panel is keeping away unwanted visitors.
You feel sad for no reason, agitated with no provocation, wanting with nothing in sigh. The grandfather clock is mute because its tick-tack reminds you of time falling away from your life's ticket.
Then, the knock on the door, do no answer "that" call on your door...

A knock, and I unwittingly opened the door
to a cadaver pale Frustration, she was mine,
left years back among worthless treasures
emotional bijouterie and feeling going vile,
why choosing to come again to wake up
the little demons or to bare naked my life?

I should buried my sword, then, in her flesh,
when she could bleed, when she was alive,
now, just an specter of something that was,
and that I scrapped from my soles to survive,
she was talking, whispering to my deaf ears,
love has gone forever, it will not be revived.

Frustration had a with her my Anger boy,
the one that couldn’t stop asking why? why?
from the darker corner of his childhood room
where Fear meet with Anger, then, she died,
left, a bloodthirsty child panting for revenge,
the seed that will become a man of many sides.

Wagging its tail was the dog Unforgiving
between Frustration and Anger, most cockeye,
he couldn’t never be the friend nor guardian,
he was only teach the meanness of the bite
that draws blood, he too one of the abandoned
by the expended soldier and the sailor’s starlight.

I closed the door on their faces, they shouldn’t
have called, not now, not ever not when life
is approaching the end, not time to remember
when, the old tree has gotten its roots so dry
that no tears can give it strength to stand up
nor, when it is falling, will have that last smile.