From out that doorway I detect
the smell of home,
or rather, that-which-would-be-home,
if I had made it my home.

But my soul must keep her secrets
so that home-room I must shun.
I hope that they're all happy there,
I bless them, every one.

I'm not to be a part of them,
nor any else.
My solitude has me in full,
it's like nobody else.

Yes, my soul must keep her secrets.
I simply cannot bear
to bear my soul before them all
as one must

in there.