I Don’t Wanna Be a Visitor

I don’t wanna be a visitor,
In my own home.

I don’t wanna be a passerby,
In my own life.

How can you move into
A house I called my own
For generations of my family,

And call it your own
Within a matter of minutes
After walking through the doors.

I walk out,
And throw stuff on the ground.

You pick that up,
But you never pick me up.

You say it’s time to move on,
That it’s part of life,

But I don’t want to move on
With the life I’ve grown to love.

“Please don’t make me do this”
I plead every night

But you say that it must be done,
And you tell me you understand.

You want to understand
Because you too moved as a child.

But did you move from
A house your grandfather grow up in?

But did you move from
A house your dad grew up in?

Weeks before your grandpa die
Did he whisper into your ear
“Honey, when you are older, maybe you can have your kids here.”

No, this is not your case,
So how can you say you understand?

I don’t wanna be a visitor,
In my own home.