Slow collapse

I learned that a house typically collapses slowly
That there's no need to panic,
there are plenty of signs
and time to get out
It makes me worry

What if you get used to the cracks and the creaks,
and forget there was ever a time before having to throw yourself
onto the bedroom door to get it open
What if you begin to love the quirks,
find safety in the way everything seems to
come closer like a warm embrace

Besides, it's always been this way, right?
These moths in my stomach are just overreacting, right?

We all have our cracks
God knows, I'm not perfect
So I don't think I'm one to judge a house
by it's uneven floor boards
In the end, if there's something wrong
if every day is one day closer to the collapse
I think I brought it onto myself
I think it would be silly of me
To get myself out, and let the house meet it's end
all alone.