Rotted Residence
Beige is the itch inside my head The dreary, drab walls I stay locked in I’m a townhouse with a freshly painted facade, But moldy wallpaper and carpets that are soaked with the stench of cigarette smoke I’m trapped in this house Blinds nailed to the sills Doors latched by keys long lost Milk spoiled And the fridge smells stale I sit in musty rooms on crumbling couches as oblivious pedestrians pass by and…