Your rusty gate screeches ajar,
Signaling my arrival.
(I know that you see me,
But I tip-toe ever so slowly
Down past your beloved car)

I firmly knock on your bright red door,
But you pretend to be out.
I'm sure that you're there,
But you're probably just scared
Of me, who you refer to as "*****".

I no longer need you as a crutch.
In fact, I don't need you at all.
I take a bat to your windows,
to your door, my key
(Guess you won't be forgetting me.)
Hope your repairs don't cost too much.