Walking to no where. They all look the same Headed back to the cave an unhome with sleepless hours They all act the same my existence offends them. Staying quiet my voice is but a screech to them. Good deeds are mocked and futile, nothing changes. Their joy is my undoing. Their goal is to remain the same. I change, trying harder bones slowly scraping in my joints. I hear the same Indirectly speaking to me, or about me. No recourse. Answering, why? Im not talking to you. But You deserve this, why do you smile? You have nothing to smile for. Going back to that recognizable 1910 6th fl. walk up. No where to go once more. It's the same.