Sweet home, built by the hand of nature
began life as a misplaced brick, intentionally pure.
For thy creators could not stop construction,
Once the foundation was lain in stone.
Yet the ground under thine feet was true,
And fate accepted you as it's own.
The pillars that supported you,
Hatefully held up thy roof.
Ever in the doghouse you were,
Locked away from love and comfort.
You, a girl with a broken heart,
Who felt afraid in her own hearth.
You're now a home that's long forgotten,
What it's like to be a valid abode.
The shelter you so tried to offer,
Was so ruined by the harsh elements.
Nature, who only tried to test your mettle
Only served to break you down.
So now you lie in a dejected heap,
No love or friends to walk your keep.
When the rain comes, you're sure you'll fail,
But I'll be there with my rusty pail,
To catch the rain that slips through,
The cold façade that is you.
"How can I be a shelter, when I have no roof?"
You ask my love, your eyes aloof.
Yet I rest my head on your weary beams,
Even as cold slips through your seams.
"For now, you're weak and need support
While I speak and laugh and we build rapport,
One day, perhaps, if you agree
I'll build a home for you and me."
From behind these walls, they question,
"Why a fixer-upper?"
And with a smile, I'll simply answer:
"It's because I can't help but love her."
Sometimes, people feel as if they are a mistake. They look at themself and sigh, "Why must I suffer through the night?"
Don't fret, my dear, for many people have no home to rest in. Your house will be shelter to someone, should you choose to take them in.
And although sometimes you are cold, or you creak and groan, or even if you're haunted by the ghosts of your past, please remember: You're just a fixer-upper. You have the tools, but you must choose to use them.
And someone, somewhere longs to dwell within you.