Castle

A silly poem about living in a house made of rocks.

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Living in a castle
Is really quite a hassle
The rough stone floors are freaking hard to sweep

The tapestries get dusty
The rugs are kinda musty
The air in there is bound to make you weep

The towers can be pretty
But living in them shitty
The stairs going up can really wear you down

All that space is cold
And prone to gather mold
And echoes come from every freaking sound

The food is quite ample
But they pay a guy to sample
A poisoned princess would make a lot less noise

The furniture hurts my back
The bed feels like a rack
I question why I practiced all this poise

The staff in here is snooty
Just trying to do their duty
But they haven’t heard a single word I’ve said

I’d give them all the boot
I think it’s all quite moot
The status isn’t worth the overhead

And though it can be iffy
I’d sell it in a jiffy
And head out on the moor to fret and roam

Find a pleasant maid
With a rundown shack that’s paid
And enjoy the life a peasant would call home