Go home, I'll be there*
You say with a smile.

I can't quite make my smile look real.

That's not my home
That's not my place
I'm not comfortable there
Or with you.

This is just a house
I walk in and wipe my shoes
I try not to eat too much of the food
I don't go outside of where you do
I try to make as little an impression
I keep to myself and speak when spoken to

This is only a home to you.

This house doesn't feel lived in
It's sparkling and pristine
There's not a speck of dirt
Or any item out of place
And I can't even sit down
Without feeling like I've sullied something.

Stop inviting me here.

Stop trying to make me one of your own
Living in a clean little box we mistakenly call home
Conform to society and live a cubicle-based life
With a white picket fence and a family of no more than five

This isn't a home
There's no sign of life
And I'll never return as
This is just a house