I once was broken,
all my windows cracked,
and walls caving in.
The doors locked and key nowhere to be found.
Someone held the wreaking ball and I came crumbling down,
rubble on the ground.

So I ran.
I left the behind the shattered pieces of photos once hung so neatly,
and pulled myself from beneath the shards of glass and splinters.
This wasn't my place anymore.
No nails could fix the damage done.

And when I stopped running,
I came to the city where my foundation had been dug all those years ago.
I was still a run down shell,
but I knew this was where I had to be.

So I slowly rebuilt my walls,
and put up new windows.
I even painted new memories
and grew from what was planted.
I wasn't just a for rent sign looking for someone to see what was behind my door.
Because the door had finally been opened.

No, I may not be a mansion,
but I am finally home,
whole again.