I lived in a house once-no wait, a castle.
I lived in a castle, with ceilings as high as the sky on a clear day and wooden floors made from the toothpicks we gathered ourselves.
I lived in a castle.
Now my 'home' has wheels.
I left the house-castle to find another house-castle only to find the 'home' on wheels.
Thats ok.
The home on wheels puts a roof over my head while I search for my new castle. And Im young so I have plenty of time to find it and this is 'normal.' But my 'home' on wheels is just temporary. Its just a place between places, a shelter from the storms. It does not make me better than you. I dont think Im better than you. Why do you think Im better than you? Cause I grew up in a castle made of toothpicks?
YOU ARE READING
Really bad poetry, if you can call it that.
RandomJust something I wrote with bad punctuation, and multiple other errors masquerading themselves as a poem. At least I think its a poem. Who knows.
