Hellhole

 

Accustomed to my surroundings I'd become.

It wasn't so glum, this hellish slum,

the music was good for a start

all the best bands played in these parts.

But my feet started to itch,

it could have been the blisters from the fire filled pits

or just the urge to leave.

 

It could have been the stench of liars and cheats

that made me turn my nose up at the place.

But I needed to hit the road, I wanted to smell burning rubber

instead of the aroma of the sweaty moneygrubbers.

The politicians that make my heart shudder in fear,

funny how so many of them ended up here.

 

I missed the old streets that I called home,

places I'd roamed.

During lonely daydreams in this horror show, nightmare world

I'd remember the feeling of us curled

tightly together, the feeling of your breath.

Now that I don't feel it. I feel like death.

I confess this place has the better of me

and my hope is sinking somewhere in a lava filled sea.

 

I'd become numb to the heat,

the sweltering fires that singed skin deep.

I'd become used to the toil

of smashing rocks and soil

to keep the demons happy.

No one wants a demon who is snappy.

I was acclimatised to the hate and the lies,

to the people that I'd normally despise.

 

In this hellhole I'd spend most of my time,

seems like forever scrabbling through the grime.

What was my crime?

I barely remember.

I took a wrong turn, I fear

somewhere many years away from here

and now I'm just passing the days,

waiting for eternity to whittle away.

 

 

Thanks For Reading,

Peace, Love and Poetry

Kyle.