Let me in like you let the old woman.
I am tired.
I am fragile.
I am sick.
I am weary.
I am cold.
I am hungry.
I am sad.
I am angry.
I have too much hate to stay.
Why won’t you let me in?
Like you let my family and friends.
Why am I not welcomed?
You almost opened the door for me once.
I knocked.
I ranged.
But you were hesitant to answer.
I saw you open for my neighbor.
And the kid that rode his bike, in the rain.
The baby at the hospital.
The couple who missed the stop sign.
Even a dog.
Why not me?
I see it opened a crack.
But you say, not yet.
Not until my hate becomes love.