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.