crash

this building, she is my life's work
i've stacked her up, brick by single brick
i've painted her inside and cleaned her outside and let people live in there
sometimes it was hard
sometimes it was easy
sometimes i was happy
sometimes i wasn't
there's still more i'm fixing, still more i'm building, still more i want to add

but you
are homeless.
and this year, you came to live inside my building
mostly, it's OK
mostly, it's pretty good
sometimes i cry about it.

when you feel awful
when you feel lower than any basement
because of where you are in the world
then that's when you search my building for its weak points
you look for those places in the foundation
to poke, and drill, and smash
and the building withers
it curls in on itself
flows, and it sways
like fragile fluid

it makes you feel better
but it makes me feel worse
it makes me hate you
it makes me hate them
it makes me hate me

so you go sit on your throne and leave me to fix the foundation
back-breaking labour
as if it was my fault
in your mind, it is

and for a while there is a good time
and for a while i can be OK

but i know the building will start to fall again
and i'm wondering how many times i can keep fixing it
before it crashes

i will help fix you
if you will help fix you
i will help fix you
if you will stop breaking me down.

i don't want to leave.