I ain’t sure if I can call this home.
There are chairs, carpets, walls, and doors,
but this place doesn’t breathe with voices anymore.
Carpets can't remember the weight of living
The walls stand, bland and grey,
and the doors stay closed as if they mean it.
There are souls here,
but none that truly reach.
All so busy
that even when someone begs for a moment,
their noise dies down
into quiet drops of loneliness,
Just to realize,
they can’t afford to beg for it.
Apr 24
Apr 24, 2026 at 5:49 AM UTC
I ain’t sure if I can call this home.
There are chairs, carpets, walls, and doors,
but this place doesn’t breathe with voices anymore.
Carpets can't remember the weight of living
The walls stand, bland and grey,
and the doors stay closed as if they mean it.
There are souls here,
but none that truly reach.
All so busy
that even when someone begs for a moment,
their noise dies down
into quiet drops of loneliness,
Just to realize,
they can’t afford to beg for it.
