That One Little House

I stay late to write

I don’t even know what about-

Life feels like a hurricane at times, and I,

feel like that one little house on the block

who crumbled when all the others stayed strong and upright-

no defects,

perfect and strong.

What the fuck is up with that?

The universally accepted truth is that life isn’t fair,

that it isn’t easy,

and the promise attached is that it’s also worth fighting for.

But if you crumbled and your bricks met the ground,

it takes a lot more strength and courage to rebuild yourself than if you had just stayed in shambles,

And that’s not an universal truth-

It is mine.

Sometimes all I can do is be

the shattered pieces that this life has made of me,

even with all the courage inside to rebuild my walls.

But for what? and for whom?

Pretty houses on a hill…

I just don’t belong in that world.

I’m gravel in shambles, shards of tile thrown across the floor

and in time, I’ll be a mansion

But darling, that time is set on my watch

not yours.

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