I'm sitting in my house of cards,
And feeling somewhat insecure,
For I have read the other bards,
And they're so much better I am sure.
But who am I alas to grouse,
I'll hang about until the fall,
For though unstable is my house,
It's better than none at all.
And so it is this hand I'm dealt,
Within these walls paper thin,
Where other bards would've never dwelt,
Another poem I will begin.
And it is mine to build upon,
Ever so humble what the heck,
While those other bards long since gone,
I bet they played with a full deck.
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