My house holds blue flowers that never die.
It holds little dogs that can only stay.
It holds a truth that will never lie,
that carries your keys for the next day.
My house holds a war that never ends.
It holds washing that my mum has to do.
It holds a health that is on the mend,
damaged by teens on nights when they have nothing else to do.
My house holds a kind chill,
kept by a weekly wage.
Earned by an animal ready to kill,
but sits instead in a love filled cage.
This house holds a love worth,
more than a victim set free.
All I ask of you Earth,
don’t let my house hold me.