I dreamed there was a building
plaster everywhere falling down
the baseboards had turned to rot
through holes I could see the ground.
The paint chipped and old
the color of ancient times
dark, damp, and quite condemned
to bulldoze would be kind.
And then I saw a crowd
all entering in a line
looking as if it were a showcase
with elegance and shine.
They all looked right through me
but I stared at them hard
to them I was a shadow
cut up, stepped on, scarred.
Then they filled right on through
once a museum of art
now a dilapidated structure
that had once been my heart.
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