The Elevator

I pressed the button years ago,

It flickered once, then sank below.

The doors stayed shut, the light went red,

A metaphor, they might have said.

Each day I wait in silent halls,

Between the cracks of crumbling walls.

While others ride from floor to floor,

I pace the dust, I watch the door.

I dress in hope, I stand up straight,

Pretending patience alters fate.

But time just smirks with every tick,

A cruel, relentless metronome click.

I see reflections, faint and warped,

Of dreams I built, then life extorted.

They fade like steam on window panes.

My whispered prayers, my phantom pains.

Some say, “Just take the stairs instead,”

But mine are missing, cracked, or dead.

A spiral down, a lurching bend,

Each step I climb just loops again.

I’ve shouted, screamed, and banged the steel,

Tried trading wounds for something real.

But silence echoes back my name,

A ghostly curse, a hollow claim.

Still here I stand, a soul confined,

Trapped on the floor the world declined.

An elevator, sealed and cold,

A promise made, but never told.

And if you pass, don’t glance my way,

Don’t toss me hope then walk away.

Just know there’s more to life than rise.

Some fall, unseen, ‘neath brighter skies.