You built me a shop,
you came in when you needed something,
you took what you needed.
You paid with nothing of value.
You recommended and invited others to me.
You liked to exploit me like a discount when you knew you could take more with less.
I was like a slaughterhouse,
only you were the butcher.
Like a patisserie,
only you served dark chocolate.
I almost went bankrupt because of you,
I was on the brink.
But someone else took me over.
Someone who turned me into a majestic museum.
Someone rebuilt me, gave me new colours, someone who appreciated my value.
Now people pay to admire me, to marvel at the place where I am.
Where you are not allowed to go.
YOU ARE READING
Section of Dead Times and Poets
PoetryThis small volume contains a collection of my life's wisdom, dilemmas, downfalls. All of this is related to the burden of youth, complicated human relationships, both friendship and love. In all this chaos there is some hope and solace. For more ope...
