A Repetitive Argument
He tells me that he is the key, and I am the door.
He is the bridge to all that I must remember.
He thinks that keys aren’t as important as doors.
He doesn’t realize that not every door requires a key to open it.
He doesn’t realize
How I chose to close myself up
When they told me I was crazy,
And I learned how to hide
And get by in this world.
I think that I’d rather be a key or a bridge, or a means to an end
Than to be what I am,
Pining after the touch of a friend.
[…] Now you, he laughed. You make everything so difficult. Trust that you will know what is in your hands, even if the words for it don’t come to you. Your body remembers things that your mind has forgotten. You are a key, and a bridge for others, too. […]