Building a Life


A life of one’s own is a special thing
I built my life of shackles and string
I built my life from the hilt of a sword
A home all my own sitting on top of my hoard,
My bits and bobs and stacked in my apartment
My kitchen is dishes covered in cheese
My living room carpet of cat hair and sneezes
Welcomes me in after coffee each day
My room is a closet made of the world’s softest hay
I drink whiskey for breakfast to soften the screams
Of customers clambering :
More milk please!
But this life is my own
Mine from the creaky floor up,
The sky is mine, once I fill this tea cup.
Never before has a siren felt warm,
The bright city lights I had dreamed of are home.
The bright city lights I had dreamed of are my own. 




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