I was their home. They found comfort in me. They discovered peace in reality. Inside me, they never had to be aloof. They can lie down in bed and never feel threatened under my roof. But they opened their eyes. They saw my wooden walls slowly cracking. They saw how my roof struggled to protect them from the rain. They noticed the door -- it's in the ground, sinking. They saw the broken glass and saw a home filled with pain. But beyond my windows, they saw a mansion. They left me and resided in it. Because in that mansion, they found perfection. The only thing I couldn't give them. In its garden, they can lie down forever. Without a fear or anxiety in mind. They won't have to worry over rodents and terrible weather. They'll be able to sleep peacefully inside. I was their home, but they found their mansion.