I’ve built a tower from eggshells,
Braced with girders fashioned of clay,
Atop a foundation of sand,
Reinforced with papier-mâché.
It shimmers in the morning light,
Casts long shadows by noon-day sun,
Sparkles electric in the eve,
Yet its splendor may be undone…
Unruly tenants dwell within.
Ignoring the terms of the lease,
They hurl themselves against the walls
Living lives of depraved caprice.
I warn the walls are made of shell,
But they just laugh at my despair:
My darkest thoughts and tendencies
Will wreck it all beyond repair.
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