The foundations are rotten
They weren’t built to withstand
All that they have gathered
Corner cobwebs
Creaking floors
Crumbling walls
Poisonous vines

But they stay there
So comfortable with
The shattered glass
That they don’t heed the calls
Of the architect
Handing them
The blueprints of a better home
They ignore the
Knocks on doors
Telling them that their home is killing them

Black mold clings to the ceilings
The furniture lies in decay
Broken in half
Splinters sticking out
Scratching everything it touches

They’re told to rebuild
To retrain
To rethink
And they refuse
Not because they don’t see the destruction
But because it’s most comfortable