Broken glass. Drunken disorderly
Graffiti ridden, a squatter’s paradise. I think
Damaged, destitute, downtrodden.
Alone and wondering
50 years you’ve stood strong, so tall
Inhibited by the lost. I see you
I see the cracks- not at your seems hidden amongst ivy
so green, I know
Find more stories like this one bysigning up!