Be The Poem

I'm going to tell you this story once,
You'll be the judge to decide if it's true or not.
If there's one thing I may tell you,
Let it be: You are your home.
Your body is the only house,
That you will ever truly own.
Maybe it's got some broken windows,
And there are tear-stains on the floors.
Maybe you lock the things you wish you weren't,
Behind its many doors.
But there is wisdom on its bookshelves,
And a laugh to light the rooms.
There's a vase upon the table,
Where the love you've grown all blooms.
Dreams sit on the mantlepiece,
Next to kindness and your trust.
Where you use them all so often,
They have no time to collect dust.
So please don't look at mansions,
With that envy in your eyes.
There's more that makes a home,
Than its appearance or its size.
Your body is your shelter,
So you deserve to love it all.
Don't let the world stand around outside,
And tell you how to paint your walls.
How lucky that you have somewhere,
To protect you from the night.
And if there's cracks left from the past?
Well then they just let in more light.