No One Wants To Come Into My Home
 

(This was written in recognition of the isolation spiral that compounds living on the dark side of the moon in a world driven by admiration of the sun.)

No one wants to come into my home
I’ve tried for days to get a visitor
Maybe they think there’s too many locks
Maybe they hear the animals inside
Maybe it’s ugly how something’s amiss
But I can’t seem to find the right welcome mat
So no one wants to come into my home

No one wants to let me into their home
I’ve tried for weeks to be a visitor
Maybe they think I’m pushing something
Maybe they don’t want to catch what I’ve got
Maybe they already have enough sugar
But the doors get thicker whenever I crack
So no one wants to let me into their home

No one wants to look at my yard
I’ve tried for months to craft my own visitors
Maybe they think it’s just abstract art
Maybe they can tell I’m an amateur at this
Maybe I shouldn’t have replicated their clothing
But the mailbox fell over and the grass got too long
So no one wants to look at my yard

No one wants to repurpose my home
I’ve tried for years with visits to town hall
Maybe it’s an investment with no returns
Maybe they have more pressing matters
Maybe I don’t understand how this works
But I always end up fumbling the mic
So no one wants to repurpose my home

No one wants to take me out of my home
I spent a whole lifetime visiting the dead
Maybe their headstones are ellipses, not periods
Maybe dirt is the universal foster home
Maybe I was drawn closer each time I looked
But the longer I hang, the grayer I get
So no one wants to take me out of my home

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A very well written poem... I found it lovely. I would definitely come into you're home if we lived close by! Sounds like an eccentric place to be!