Church Street

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that old apparment smell
with the paint peeling off the walls
in what seems like elegant curls
the last attempt at decoration
but this place
this place was my detonation
my home i hated to be
i remember that feeling
every time so ready to leave
as mother lay
sedated by her own slow death
out in her room
titanic still playing since the night before
worried more about
her next fix and score
than her kid out in the driveway
rubbing their fingers in the dirt
making the most out of what its worth
the little kid writing their name
on the dust that lay on the exterier
of the cars around
as inferier as it may be
that little kids identity
was me
i hated that house
that kitchen, my room
it was all just a cover up
of the homelessness to come
but instead, you couldnt face reality
left that appartment for the next
one after another
you'd slowly loose your cover
as the little kid grew up
they realized whats up
and im faced with that now
with a boom and a pow
you made that magician escape
7 years have passed
half my life, you've missed
i walked by the appartment the other day
thats the only one i miss





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