House of Cards

 Where do I begin?

Maybe at the beginning :-)...

Where I was born with a concrete building in my backyard- it was real.

But I lived in an illusion.

Then I built my house of cards. An illusion. And thought it was real. My illusion was real.

Someone tried to blow up my house of cards. My illusion. My reality. 

Where is my concrete house? I dont seem to find it.

Perhaps. One day. I shall stumble upon it again. 

Oh heck- I am living in it. And yet I dont feel the strength of concrete under my finger tips.

Only the elusive breeze.

I must be mad. Stoned.