Home

The plan was to leave

But instead I am stuck

In this dirty house

Filled with frustration

And unwashed clothes

Nobody is happy

Nobody has the energy

To leave this hell

Well deserved of course

But still strong enough

To keep you stuck

Our own home is ultimately

Our own prison

Wanted

All those thing

That gives life

Some meaning

I wanted them too

A work, friends, things

But none of them are mine

My Story

My story is short

The message is not important

And very important

Since is me

Me is the center of universe

No one and nothing is more important

I even got an autograph once

Written by a very important author

Whose name I have forgotten

(After all is not my name)

She or he agreed

To something

But I cannot tell you what

All the my energy is absorbed

By thinking on me