My feelings are built out of cardboard,
Bendable, jagged and raw.
My thoughts are built out of paper,
Broken and scattered and gone.

My bones are made up of glass,
Soft and smooth but easy to break.
My blood is made up of mortar,
Thick and messy, a trail in its wake.

And all of these together,
If you fold them here and there,
Will make up who I am,
A cardboard castle, lone and bare.

But my friends make up the paintings,
Colourful, kind, and true.
And my family is the paint,
Orange, green and blue.

My hobbies are the children's toys,
Joyful and scattered throughout the space,
My passions are the decorations,
Beautiful, serene, and softly placed.

So in the end, my cardboard castle,
Is not how it may seem.
You must look on the inside,
To the things that can't be seen.

For though the outdoor walls are bare,
And they all look dark and lonely,
If you open up the door, you'll find
The inside's warm and homey.

I may seem small and quiet,
But the truth that you don't know,
Is that all you really have to do

Is come and say hello.