I wrote this a little while ago, it’s open to interpretation.

Happy Sunday. Until next time…


Fix Me:

I tried to fix the house of weeds, the wrecked, abandoned hovel.
I used to plead, to beg and cry, but never did I grovel.
I helped to fix the house of games, until it was no fun.
I made a home, then felt alone and on I went to run.
The house of cards was a tricky one, I built it and it fell back down.
Team work helped it for a while, then I slowly began to drown.
Now that house is just half built, but does it need me now?
Maybe I need to build my own house, Although I don’t know how.
The house of brick that shelters me, it doesn’t feel like home.
Now I’m lost, I don’t belong and once again I roam.