A Room, A Door, A Tunnel

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In my mind there's a door
And every time I turn the knob and push
It greets me on the other side
Around it is a little room
And over the years I've decorated
Changed a poster here and there
But still I know this little room
Many tears have soaked into the floor
A river that dried up long ago
As I pace the floor they tickle my feet
Bad memories seem funnier
The more you re-live them
I think they call it cynicism
Though I have come to see it as life
So how does one escape it
When their mind has incurred a scratch
The walls close in as I grow more restless
I cannot close my eyes long enough to satisfy
The door opens harder with each awakening
She is innocence where guilt reflects preference
And I just called to say--I'm unhappy