An Unknown Familiar Place Poem by Pedro Cescon

The hallways of yesterday
The corridors of tomorrow
The red door to the back alley
The front door to the yarrow

Isn't like I don't know this place
I've got every inch known
I recognize all 'bout its face
And 'bout what wasn't shown

And everyone 'round
Cute girls and gentlemen
Every view, every sound
Every syn, every amen

But I ain't quite fitting
All I must do is lurk
Control myself when thinking
That I'm at mama's work