Debt

Poetry

Rats play chase inside the cupboard
My empty storage space
When I come over to open it
They scratch their nails into the wood
Glare through me and hiss
Like the broken boiler in the other room
I look around but there’s nothing there
It’s hard to walk but I’m used to seeing in the darkness
Who knows how long it’s been?
The numbers, the letters, the loans
I’m in debt, but who cares, who the hell cares?
Love is still attainable and free

 

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