I have a home,

There are many like it, but this one is mine,

Lovingly tended to make sure the facade is fine,

But sometimes I pass by the Castro,

And I walk past other homes, row upon row,

Their facades are weird, their loving care applied inside,

Compared to mine, where the facade covers what I hide,

Are they brave? Am I wise?

Sometimes I went to war with myself, staring in the mirror as I shout,

But I don’t any more, I decided it was time to turn my home inside, out.


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