The most sacred place barely recognized,it happens when we're used to things.
For granted is what we price everything we can access, effortlessly
Made of four walls , without all senses we carry with us
But it's where we all are .

It knows our faces without being polished, our secrets and hidden selves ,
Sometimes it reveals,what kind of being we exists,
Disorganized and maybe in order.

Often we leave ourselves to it,
Walking to the world with a copy,like a habit we perfectly mastered,
Meeting with other selves ,just purely copies.

Impossible to walk to each other,reveal the original we are
But we all know the prize of betrayal, maybe death if not destruction.

It's a place that holds us ,with a single grip we all belong
In and out it bears ,and dares not to fight but protect.

Who can be without it?
It's a place we barely recognize, sacred it may be
Yet just exist in it.