This is the house
Where I do not live
A castle in suburbia
Haunted by old ghosts
And memories that won’t fade
It is the home of the fearful
The hearth of the needy
Of the too high
Too cramped
Too frustrated
It is the fish bowl
To be fed in
Have the ornaments cleaned
And watch the world go by
The glass is thick
Screams are soundless
An asylm to shrivel up
And die
This is my home
On top of the world
An unknown landscape
Is my backyard
It is the closet of the dreamers
The cubicle of the free
Of the charcoal toast
Of the coin laundry
The independant
The gilded cage is broken
Its occupant is loose
Don’t try to leave breadcrumbs
For she will never return
She has tasted the glory
In the wild wind
Its spirit may hand her the universe
Or take her fragile life
But she will never return
Never again
To that house