The locked door.

The lock door.

You give me a key to open the door. But it won't open, and I don't know the reason why. I guess that's up to you to decide. Whether I should run or hide. I can take a peek in. But I don't see your grin. Your smile is like a cool summer breeze. But I can see a cold, wintery freeze. Your eyes hide the shadows of things from a long time ago, and it scares me so. You have to leave the past in the past and open the door and let me in, and then you'll find me waiting and sitting on the floor. Then you can explain the reason why I can see the handwriting on the wall. That explains it all.