Take this rock off of my rooftop
Before the ceiling comes crashing down
And crushes the little that's left.
You're just a crack.
One that I incessantly repair,
Afraid of deception leaking through,
Terrified of nothing being there.
But it's inevitable.
The contractor said
This house is a waste.
It wasn't built upon a sturdy base.
It was forcefully thrown together
Out of fear of having
Nowhere to go at all.

After I re-plaster the ceiling,
The basement floods
Or the electricity goes out.
So I mop.
I fix the circuit breaker.
I put the effort in
To keep it all in tact.
But then that primary, subtle crack
Expands I to a portal
That everything falls into
And unveils what's
Underneath the floorboards
And behind these battered walls.

So I plaster.
And I mop.
I fix the circuit breaker.
Plaster, mop, breaker, sweep, hammer, drill, paint.
Plaster.

And even though it's still standing,
It's just a house with a crack
That will never be repaired
Until I get a new roof.