Stay out of my house

My house is a place
Where everything's good
And the truth doesn't matter
Even these ghosts in my walls...
Wait, what ghosts?

My house is a standstill
For all confrontation
And opening for an endless
Concave wave of repetition
It is my haven
From the world at large

In my study, at my desk
I sit and read all the books
I always wanted to
And stare out the windows
At the little people
On the foggy sidewalks
And no one ever raps
Upon my door
Or disturbs my rest
Not a dog barking
Not a car's horn blaring
Not a single soul

My house is my world
So be careful of
What you bring into it
A part of me knows
None of it will harm me
But why take the chance

Stay out of my house

(One big, yet very unoriginal metaphor for "I don't want to become my dad.")