Push And Pull Poem by Faith Wood

Call me a shell,
but sweetie, I'm not empty
Everyone here is a locked door
and I'm just opening.

Sneaking under, never walking through;
it's a game we play
Only trivial at best
but it's what gets us unhinged.

The street is our confidant
when we push and we pull
In one, out the other
and into another, yet.

The lines are the crossroads
and we fear we've gone astray
Our words are underthought
and taken out of consideration.

What we speak is only arbitrary,
our gold, but another's trash,
the key found under the mat
that we fail to notice.