Just like the thud of a door closing in a rustic theatre, damp with the tears of audiences of past, be careful with hearts and how you treat them, don’t leave people in haste, stranded, alone in a room on their own.
One day you’ll want to revisit that epiphany of a voice that sang until it murdered the souls of the listeners, of which your own soul was privileged to.
One day you’ll squeak open that door in trepidation, hoping to listen to that soother, that soul who knew how to raise hairs on end but you’ll see him hanging, chair tipped and the noose signed with the date of the day you slammed that door…..
-W.E.
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