Trap Door

ACT 1: The Call and the Collapse

Confrontation with emotional pain. Fights with his partner. Trauma and tantrums. This is the “cave you fear to enter.”

TRAP DOOR

[Verse 1]

Caught up in loops, arguing our way,

The same old fight, replaying every other day.

I need to take a break cause it feels like a wall,

Is there's a key that can end this all?

[Chorus]

Unlock Our Hearts

The trapdoor to our souls.

Turn Arguments into Art

Hidden wounds make us whole.

[Verse 2]

It's not the dishes or chores at hand,

Deeper stuff we've buried in the sand.

You yell at me, I yell right back,

But it's truly not each other we attack.

[Chorus]

Unlock Our Hearts

The trapdoor to our souls.

Turn Arguments into Art

Hidden wounds make us whole.

[Verse 3]

Sara's stressed, she needs comfort there,

Christopher fights, feeling it’s unfair.

Triggered memories, old hurts return,

A history of wounds that deeply burn.

[Chorus]

Unlock Our Hearts

Find the trapdoor to our souls.

Turn Arguments into Art

Hidden wounds make us whole.

[Bridge]Acknowledge the feeling, name the pain,

Find the trapdoor in the emotional rain.

Venture deeper, insight at every turn

At the bottom a message with which we return

[Verse 4]

Gently now, bring message on back,

Redecorate the layers, there’s no turning back.

From surface confrontation to love's rebirth,

Transform anger into boundless worth.

[Instrumental]

[Outro]

Drop through the trapdoor, don't shy away,

Turn each fight into a brighter day.

Use those conflicts, face the anger and the fear,

For all that truly matters is oh so very near.

[Chorus]

Unlock Our Hearts

The trapdoor to our souls.

Turn Arguments into Art

Hidden wounds make us whole.

Hidden wounds make us whole.

Hidden wounds make us whole.

“The Day I Fell Through the Trap Door (And Landed in Love’s Basement)”

Hi, my name’s Chris. I’m eleven, and apparently, I argue too much. At least that’s what Mom says when she and Dad are done arguing with each other.

Now don’t get me wrong—we’re not throwing chairs or anything. But sometimes it’s like we’re stuck in an endless loop. Monday, dishes. Tuesday, chores. Wednesday, the tone someone used when asking someone ELSE about the dishes or chores. It’s like a rerun, but nobody’s laughing.

So one night, I get so fed up, I stomp out of the room, trip over the cat, and BAM—I land on the basement floor. Only…it ain’t the basement. It's another place entirely. Like a dream...or one of those weird old-timey towns where everyone has big feelings and speaks in poetry.

A lady with wild hair and rainbow robes appears and says, “Welcome to the Emotional Trap Door!”

I blink. “Uh, is there a way back?”

She hands me a mirror. “Only when you face what’s really going on.”

I look, and suddenly I see a movie playing in the mirror. It’s me yelling at Sara (my sister), and her yelling at me, and—ouch—Mom looking stressed out, like her eyeballs might explode.

Then something shifts. I see little versions of us. Like, baby-me crying when Dad left for a long trip. Baby-Sara hiding under the table during one of those grown-up “talks.” We weren’t mad at each other. We were hurt. Scared.

“That’s the art of argument,” the lady says. “There’s always a story under the story. Hidden wounds. Trap doors.”

I suddenly felt…weirdly wise. And also like I really needed a juice box.

“Can I go back now?” I asked.

“Only if you promise to unlock the heart. Yours. Theirs. Everyone’s.”

Next thing I know—POOF—I’m back in the living room. Mom and Dad are still mid-argument about the recycling bin. I sit down and say, “Hey, I think we’re not really mad about the trash. Maybe we’re all just tired and sad and need a group hug... and tacos.”

Everyone stops. Nobody talks. Then Mom snorts and laughs. Dad shrugs and says, “Tacos do sound good.”

So that’s the day I fell through the trap door and discovered the big secret: Most fights aren’t about now. They’re about THEN. And if we all took a minute to peek under the floorboards of our hearts, we might find a lot less yelling... and a lot more tacos.

The Big Lesson: The deeper you go, the closer you get.

And the proverb: “Behind every shout is a whisper that just wants to be heard.”