Bloodflow

They say that every time a door closes, a window opens.
   I heard the crash;
             A door slammed shut.
Now where is the opening?
        Not in my e-mail. All I get there is
Spam and internet flakes,
Who probably would run screaming if they knew half of the
                          Baggage I bring to the table.
Not locally; I know that.
      Too many people know who I am
And are all too willing to rat me out,
          To ruin my life.
                                   So where is this opening? All I hear
Is doors slamming shut.
            Maybe I don’t get an opening.
                      Maybe I don’t deserve one.
                                               Maybe I’ll make one instead.
Bloodflow.