If person could be a home. She would be a room,

not able to smell the scent of her own perfume.

We people like to be together, and she’s all alone,

just like the bird’s lost feather.

You’re asking to meet her, to open her door.

So badly some want to enter,

the place where she is the centre.

Stay if you like, or go if you please, who cares? Not me it’s all hers.

Explore the room and found her, before it’s too late

Go through her stuff and look what she wears,

She’s not the kind of girl to keep teddy bears.

Don’t be importune,

’cause having a door open by her is like winning a fortune.

And who know? Maybe, just maybe one day there will be more,

there will be completely new pairs of walls, selling, and doors.

And maybe, just maybe she will become, home.

For someone who was before meeting just alone.


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