Hotel
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Hotel... in the Song
I listen to the radio,
it is turned way down low,
but it is all that I care to hear, anymore.
The TV in the other room,
is going all the time,
but that is just fine.
Father comes home late,
from nowhere he works at all.
Mother stays home staring at the walls.
I go to school, until I do not.
Then I am grown without...
a place to be, you see.
Now, we live in one room,
my parents and myself.
Sometimes I get to sleep on a bed,
and sometimes the floor.
It is better than the door,
and the unknown outside.
We had a real home once,
but it is gone for now,
I doubt I will ever see it come back.
Instead, we pay each night,
or once each week,
to be allowed a place
among the many.
There is no privacy,
and everyone is starving.
No one has any money at all.
There is no reason to go, anywhere...
but the stair, to stare at the lost people,
as they set up camp in the parking lot
across the road.
A preacher man he comes by twice,
once to give a note, and then to give his coat.
There were no takers for his words.
They would rather eat the continental breakfast,
provided by the establishment.
Broken people living in a rut.
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2022
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