Houses and Hotels
The house has a caving roof
A bungalow with decaying wood
Unkempt fences made of fear
A garden full of all your tears
Bottles clink together in the wind
Metal tables that rust in the end
A cobblestone patio of cigarette butts
A note on the door that gave me papercuts
Should I tear it down or try to reconstruct?
Am I a simple weed or a flower you plucked?
Am I here only for your self-esteem?
These things you say make me scream
But of course I stay silent in this house
Quiet as a teeny tiny mouse
Careful not to slip up and speak my mind
Because you say you’re dying
And I don’t want to kill you
I know what you’ve been through
I guess that’s why I stick around
But again I do not make a sound
Because I’m the only reason you’re alive
And it’s hard to leave when I’m in charge of life
But these hands weren’t meant for holding you
And this skeletal body isn’t made of glue
And when you said you needed me
Did you ever stop to think, “maybe
My daughter needs me as well”
That’s why my new house is a hotel
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