I made a cage inside my head,

I plumped the floor to make a bed

but after years of lying there

I realized it was too bare.

So in my cage I placed objects,

the simple things a life collects.

Then one day I woke to find

the cage I’d built was not my mind.

Even with my props unfurled

I’d somehow made a hollow world.

All arranged, so neatly stacked,

they couldn’t hide that something lacked.

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