My home is not a product
My room is not for sale
My stove is not a bakery
Nor my yard a barbecue
My country is invaded
These strangers in a strange land
Their horses stomp their hooves
As if they own the stables
Their prostitutes stomp
Their heels and ****
In the bed I make each morning
I continue ghosting on the porch
The sun is not my friend
Nor my enemy
He is a battle over my home
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
My home is not a product
My room is not for sale
My stove is not a bakery
Nor my yard a barbecue
My country is invaded
These strangers in a strange land
Their horses stomp their hooves
As if they own the stables
Their prostitutes stomp
Their heels and ****
In the bed I make each morning
I continue ghosting on the porch
The sun is not my friend
Nor my enemy
He is a battle over my home
I wrote this while people were walking around during an 'open house' while we were trying to sell our house. We took it off the market after we got tired of so many strangers coming through our house, but we might put it back on later this year
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