I used to dream of a house

with four walls.

Standing almost 10 feet tall

inside were memories I dare not share,

and feelings that I couldn't bare.

I dreamed that a house was a place

where you grew.

But I found out soon that those

homes weren't true.

I dreamed that homes were build from love,

However, the only homes I knew

seemed deprived of.

I've come to this conclusion,

as the rain fell from up above.

Home is not a house build tall.

There aren't four walls that

will not fall.

An imaginary home that doesn't

seem to exist.

So many memories and feelings dismissed.


I used to dream of a house,

with four walls.

Now I don't dream of anything,

nothing at all.

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