There are castles, three,
each a home to me
harsh winds blow on
whichever one i go
on
to
and i becomes I only when I question
the why of it

you may wander the streets with a million deadbeats
but your home wherever your heart lies
is the silver mine you carry
with you.

I stifle my cries and blot out the pain
the castles, three,
are always to blame.

Once when it was Wednesday or some day
I enjoyed
magic or necromancy was employed
to slowly destroy me
hence
the castles, three.

Nothing spoils the taste
like
the taste of utter waste
I tasted it
in the waste of it
now in place of it and
in spite of it
I hit
the jackpot.

Castles are gone now
how I love
writing that