The lightbulb swings its glare,
Showing only half at a time.
Though the dank smell tells me enough.
This place is a squatters prime.
The graffiti on the walls,
The soiled mattresses on the floor,
A old cracked gas fire,
Was pushed up against the door.
How can anyone live this way?
They'd have to be desperate too.
But I suppose as shelter for the night...
It'll just have to do.
Your feedback helps Odd understand what's working
Just a some what "odd" girl, living in what feels like a glass box. Hello Opuss, the savour of my sanity. my little private world amongst a life of being watched and watching.
#household I find my home out on the street. All sorts of people that I meet, I find my home amongst the trash... Teabags, apple cores, all in my stash, I keep it down, it's quite a feat.
I'm looking for peace, But I'm falling to pieces. I just feel like shit, And I'm covered in faeces. Piss, puke and bruises, I ask for some help but I just get refuses.
I have no home to call my own. The open road is where I roam. But this road is coming to an end. I have found some land and pitched up my tent. I am now the king of my own castle.
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