Remember the story of the three little pigs?
In a ploy to escape the wolf and stay safe
Each tried to make a home strong and sturdy
And yet each time they conceded defeat.
And finally it was the house of bricks,
That pig #3 built that did the trick.
That's the kind of house we build
With the lies we often tell ourselves.
It starts with wanting safety from the fears outside
But before we know it, we completely lock ourselves in.
The house of bricks becomes a prison strong,
Making even all our rights seem all wrong.
I too once built a strong house of lies,
For denial seemed the only way to cope
From my failures, from my broken dreams ,
Wanting a haven where the bruised heart could heal
And believed that in this house of bricks,
No more hurt would life ever inflict.
But that's not how life turned out to be.
Denial numbed everything else with the pain
And sitting inside that house for years feeling safe
I turned into a stranger I could barely recognise.
And as the lies further strengthened those walls
My bruised heart could feel nothing at all.
I began to see how this seemingly wise escape
Had demanded the price of my vulnerability.
Cladding me with a rusty iron armour to protect
But in reality, hurting my scarred skin even more.
And it's true that the tears did stop for a while,
But with that also stopped the hugs, the smiles.
Finally my head and my heart could bear it no more
The armour was cast aside and with that
Once more I felt the pain, but I also felt the love
- not a bad bargain!
And though it's scary, yet all the same
I am slowly learning to shed these lies of mine
And for now a house of straws will do just fine.
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