Bunker

Harsh light on sore eyes cannot hide the grime of this place;

Food-splattered walls, crumbs on the floor,

Finger-smudged windows and matted carpets,

I will call it home for now.

 

My home lies beneath the earth’s surface,

Void of sunlight and the passage of time,

But no hand of the clock will grant me slumber;

Down here I am always awake.

 

This home is not mine alone, for there are others

But they do not disturb me, nor I them.

It is only the antics of mice which concerns me;

We are all mice down here anyway.

 

No comfort do I find in my comrades through,

So I work and I work,

Waiting for the day that I leave this grimy place,

And find a new home for myself.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s