Is a house of kaleidoscopes,
Solid colors,
Stairs and stairs and stairs, that sometimes lead nowhere but
Down.
Windows always show partly cloudy days,
And a living room is nothing more
Than a stepping stone
To exploration.
At least one room is filled to the brim with balls,
But I've yet to discover Randall Munroe.
And the neighborhood?
Don't even get me started.
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