She sat uncertain in front of the house she owns
Undeserving of the class, inherent heritage
A monstrosity of brick-by-brick finesse
Whipped cream carefully sandwiched
Tastefully assembled and stacked
A toothsome gluing of generations’ legacy
She sat undeserving of forced ascension
Cheap, loud, and banged
She sat uncertain
Diminutive, low quality’s showpiece
Metallic scrap though fairly new
She sat undeserving in front of the house she owns
I guess she was an afterthought
Don’t you hate when that happens?
--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.