i spent months and months
of effort and toil
building an elaborate
exquisite
phantom house of desire
when it rained
the rain fell on me
the roof was not real
when the wind blew
i was cold
the walls could hold nothing
and i wondered to myself
why i was miserable
even though i knew all along
the house was not real
and it could not be ever real
fashioned out of the lumber
of dreams and hopes
then the phantom house burned
and when it was torched
i burned inside my own heart
ending up with ashes and cinders
and imaginary ruin
over time the perceived ruins fade
i pray that i shall never attempt
to build another place again
because desire and want are things
in a dream of a dream of a dream
but the architect is optimistic
and is looking for a new site to build
this is why i pray and try not to forget
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