My House is Not Your Home

It would take too much effort to make a house like me your home.

My House is Not Your Home


Today I did not feel like a person.
I felt like a vacant house on a deserted lonely street.
Where someone had left on all my lights,
And drew back all the window shades,
As though inviting another inside.
But all my rooms are bare,
And there are layers upon layers of dust on all my floors.

My front door is always unlocked, left open just a crack,
Begging you to me from the road outside.
But you turn your back,
It would take too much effort
To make a house like me
Your home.