I lie here inthis dungeon I call home I don't know how I got here the stench of stale ciggarettes and swet would drive most people away Yet I lye hear night after night just glad to not be in the cold streets my body aches I wake up cold and aching from the two inch foam i call my bedliving has become a chore i no longer even leave my dungeon for i have given away my social life for a needle and a dungeon i want to beangy any blame anyone but myself yet i know im the one who locked myself away scared of stigma and rejection i used to think look at that junkie how pathetic but if ti only knew how they ended up there i wouldvvd have showed empathy now im one of the pathetic people that society looks down on and so i hide from the the streets the cars and the people who were like methers no need for me to see the judgement on their faces all i need is a mirror
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