Poorhouse

State of being is not well

In shambles, in fact

Rats own the interior of the walls

Dust owns all the ledges

The mind hangs itself

With chicken wire or a shoelace

Anything to move the blood

Change the mood, feel good again

Life hasn’t been easy

There haven’t been handouts

No government cheese or free bread

No game shows

No brand new cars

Hand-me-downs and leftovers

And always cold

Cold like her heart

She could get out if she wanted

But this is the world she knows

Complete with sub-par creature comforts

Complete with the rats

And dust

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

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