Dark,
Moisty,
Cold.
Wet bed,
Smell like old flesh.
Even flys won't get near.
Old walls,
Covered with green mold.
When you sleep that's your nightmare.
Ugly floors,
Never cleaned before looks like thousand of roaches clawing on it.
The room smell like dead fish under burning sun.
Dusty water,
Taste like liquid dripping from garbage.
Rat would want to eat food from the shove.
My home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem