I have a name
One of those names you leave on welcome mats, but don't leave a key under because you're afraid of letting someone in.
Its easy to dust your feet off on me.
You do so everytime you leave this half empty house
I'm easy to leave
You don't think twice about making sure  the door is locked
You don't linger on the porch steps near my name
If the house was on fire, I'd be the very last thing you'd save.
You don't bring me inside in the winter
I'm a placeholder
I keep the dirt from reaching  your crippled frames.
I'm not a necessity.
I mean, how many people have welcome matts anymore?
I have a name.
But it doesn't bring joy to your home.
I'm not a welcome mat.
I am a mat of despair and anguish.
"Yes, please enter our lovely home! I've died here more times than you can count on your temperate fingertips!"
I do not feel like home
I do not soothe you on cold rainy days, but rather sit in the damp haze of depression.
I am not your welcome mat.