This God-Forsaken Place

This God Forsaken Place

I loathe the inner sentiments of this place.
The morbid halls covered in plain ale paint,
Filled with ravishing women with no personality.
The vaccination stained smell in the freezing air.
Syringes lying around like still, dominated bodies in a war.
How is your day? Psh….. like you really care.
Scholars milking worthy patients of ever penny they possess’;
Like the rich conservative bastards need anymore.
What does your job title actually include?
You have a bullshit lifestyle Miss Nothing.
I float through the halls of joy only to find sadness.
The children who have to remain indoors,
Like a school of melancholy tuna in a money hungry sardine can.
Holidays spent in this tragically shot replica of home,
This replica holds more dollars than smiles.
God, how I hate this god-forsaken place.