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a messy letter to something that keeps me hostage MAG
  to this house that is my home, but the same home that’s simply just my house,
  you’re a pretty structure with
  your wandering deer
  glossy peeled eyes simply eating this
  row of flowers that stand tall and neat
  a castle, if you will,
  with your longing princesses, proud
  knights and kings,
  but the same dusty sculptures, and servants
  all in one
  now forget that,
  because this is simply me tiptoeing around
  a sleeping giant,
  whose veins run with pumping blood and life and fragility
  but whose skin is paper thin
  so be careful
  careful
  careful
  so home, house, castle,
  your walls are strong
  as a good house is
  your white picket fence
  is stuck into this vibrant green lawn,
  pretty
  perfect
  neat
  and if you want the rest of the cliché picture,
  you may add in your little housewife,
  business man,
  and cat with the bell on its collar
  if you wish
  but do what you want,
  i won’t force the truth, for the burden
  that comes along with the groggy giant
  is the same of spilled glitter in a
  fuzzy carpet,
  and all you have is a plain dustpan and broom,
  but i need the fanciest vacuum
  you may have
  to go along with your picture
  with your pretty castle, sleeping giant,
  dumb cat with the dumb bell,
  you may also have a criminal,
  a scare,
  a savage,
  if you will or if you want
  because i won’t force the truth
  you have said criminalsavagescare,
  and they’ve captured the pretty princess
  with her soft skin,
  blood so pure that it might as well be white,
  and her pretty locks of hair,
  which if you want the cliché, will be wavy and blond,
  and could be sold for all the money
  in the world,
  she’s captured in the night, when everyone’s asleep, and
  their senses are dulled,
  and she lets out a scream, that only everybody can hear,
  but the king’s crown doesn’t rattle,
  the knight’s armor shouldn’t twitch
  the poor princess’s words are all over
  the floor, seeping
  into the cracks of her carpet, and there’s
  not even a dustpan
  but the banditcriminal simply tapes
  her mouth shut,
  in hopes that her lips will seal together
  shut
  closed
  clean
  so, to bring back to you, you house
  with your contents
  of princesses
  of giants
  of cats and bells
  and dustpans that will never see a speck
  of glitter,
  you’re certainly strong,
  but you seem to also be soundproof.
  was my message clear?
  because i hope you get it, but won’t
  understand
  what i mean
  sincerely,
  not so much though,
  signed,
  me

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