The Door

Every day, it is you I abuse
More often do I tug and pull you
Not thinking twice to open and use
Made of wood and metal this is true

Yet looking deeper and to see
How you feel and see the pain
Of the blood from the tree
From the day you were slain

Forgive me my willing friend
I'll attempt to thank you more
With reguards and wishes I send
You forever open and closing door.

Author notes

I had intentionally wrote this about a door in my first period class.... then when I looked closer I realized that I wrote a spiritual poem without even knowing it. Let me know if you catch it or if you can see both sides of the poem.