Do you still call me a house?


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Do you still call me a house ? 

I sure resemble like one.

I have the foundation and I have the shape.

I surely stand up strong and straight.

Yet, something is still missing.

Is it the roof ?

Oh yes, its destroyed.

Is it the walls ?

Indeed, they are hollow.

How about the windows ?

Phew! are you kidding me!

Each day I am scorched by the sun,

Some days I am drenched by the rain.

And on some, the wind seems to be harsh.

But, every day I am overwhelmed by my best buddy.

My pain.

My pain, to stand there just alone.

My pain, of living a purposeless life.

My pain, to not be able to shelter anyone.

My pain, to never give anyone a wee bit of happiness.

Yet, I have to stand.

I really don’t know why.

Maybe, I was destined to.

Maybe, I am forced to.

But, do I want to ?

I don’t know. 

Nevertheless, I am still a house.

I shall stand.

In a hope that someone would build those walls.

In a hope that my roof will be fixed.

But, deep inside, I know that I can never be a house.

 

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