A Constant Knocking

You’re making this easy for me, erasing yourself I mean
My memory is terrible as is without being reminded to forget
Inside my brain there is a stockpile of doors,
Lined up neatly because I wouldn’t have it any other way

Most are closed
Some get blown open by the wind that sneaks in through my ears
A couple of them have a window in them
There's also a row that I've never even opened

Most are locked
Some squeak so much that I have to jam them shut and board them up
A few won't open even if I tried
There are some that slam in my face as soon as they open

If you could walk down the corridors of my brain you would understand
You would see each door has a name carved into it, so delicately
And some that you would swear a monster was hiding behind,
Ready to tear you apart as soon as you touch the doorknob

But there's also a select few that that have managed to get their hands on a doorstop
These doors remain open, never locked
Knocking back and forth against the walls of my heads

All I'm asking you to do, as you scan the halls,
With knife in hand, is please,
Please pick the right door