Grand house

I live in a grand house at least that's what people tell me.

over the years and time, it's grandeur shrinks to me. it's not so grand it's not so tall it's not so handsome.

I live in a grand house.

Some say I'm blessed to have a maid dress me and a cook to cook my breakfast.

I don't see it though, it's my expectation how else am I suppose to live.

I live in a grand house.

when people visit they applaud us a happy family in a big house.

people say I take it for granted.

maybe their right years of expectation means that I have no gratitude and little appreciation.

maybe it's because I see that there's little value in things.

maybe it's because I see that high walls don't make for high hopes they just led to higher fences.

maybe it's because I desire to be equal with the world, I daresay normal.

maybe it's because I see what goes on when the butler closes the door. I see the fights, I feel the hits, I feel the solitude. I hear the quiet of my prison. I taste dust that settles when the fight is over.

I live in a grand house.

I have no friends.

I live in a grand house.

I have no love.

i live in a grand house and most days I feel like I'm terribly terribly alone.