Brick by brick.
Brick by brick, brick by brick.
I built my plastic kevlar house.
I knew I had to insulate myself.
To make it strong, impenetrable,
I avoided windows, glass of any kind.
No way to break in; no way in at all.
I painted blue each and every room.
Uniformity is cost-effective, after all.
I knit an outer shell for camouflage.
In my attic: electronics spread galore!
To warn of approaching enemies.
I spent my days staring at orange LCDs.
Ever vigilant for each and every breach,
“Safe at last; safe at last,” I told myself.
This is how I spent those endless days.
“Safe at last; safe at last,” I muttered.
I thought at last, I’d venture out
I tried to usher courage to my heart.
I had misplaced the key; destroyed Feng Sui.
I couldn’t find the slightest hint of door.
Doors can so easily get unhinged … like me.
I had — had I— forgotten to carve one?
So, now I must begin again. I must unbuild.
Brick by brick. But I cannot find the tools.
I’ve built a prison meant for fools.
Designed by excellent, redundant rules.
My tears, my tears, begin to lake in pools.
Brick by brick.
petersironwood 