she lived in dark depravity
in dankest domicile
and yet, within her squalor
she built castles all the while
with bricks of dreams of better days
and mortar made of hope
windows glassed with some day soons
and that is how she'd cope
she shuts her eyes against the world,
the mold, the house that creaks
the sad condemned shelter
where she hides her head to sleep
bulldozers of reality
threaten to destroy
the architecture of delusion
and her only source of joy
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