KNOCK-KNOCK

Knock-knock:

Who’s there?

It’s me; the person you do not see

Through your peephole

The unfamiliar stranger

Standing on the outside

No longer sure what I’m supposed to be.

Knock-knock:

What do you want?

I’m so busy

So many things to do

Things that do not include you

Why are you still out there?

Get away from my door.

Knock-knock:

Please let me in?

I was born here,

It was once my home

Long ago before you moved in

Now I have nowhere to go

And no pillow

Upon which to lay my head.

Knock-knock:

My knuckles are bleeding

Raw from all of the knocking

Trying to get back in

To return to the fatherland,

The place where I was conceived

Where I now stand knocking

Dying to get back in.