It is like any other school
Once you're past the three
Locked layers and the
Molesting bulldog
Who pats you down
Looking for her lost bone.
Stagnant smell of six hundred
Sweating socks standing attention
In single formed lines,
Hands kept behind them.
Clean clothes, food, and safety
Keeps them there being that
It's an orphanage in disguise.
Show me a picture of your
Baby, teach me to count
Cards in poker like a pro,
It doesn't matter what,
they just need someone
To listen. Code ten-ten
You better bunker-down
Unless you prefer to stay
Knowing there is nothing
To come back home to.
No comments:
Post a Comment