Backdoors

CATEGORY

life

you know you gotta go home
when you're feeling alone
and need somebody to talk to
but when you're there
all they do is stare, as if you're
in the wrong place
you look in the mirror
at your face and try to
trace the time you lost
behind, as if you're
transformed in time
every ones older
the children are bigger
you try to figure out
what to talk about
but, there's so much resentment
floating in the air 
you find a comfortable chair
but, there's someone sitting there
a new addition, added to the problem
that you toss aside
instead of solving
coz, it's nobodies job
and nobodies going to do it
therefore it goes undone
needed words go unsaid
they waste away in a heap of dung
all remain silent, until
it starts to smell, then it's too late
for the corpse