Madrason writer - This House

In this house
where I live
breaths slavery
slave of drugs
or of destruction
awaiting its
masters instruction.

In this house
lives a mouse
my friend and me
my only
family.

This house has ears
it's cursing and swears
whilst it should be
nursing.

This house bleeds
it eats and it feeds
it's walls are sweating
misery.

Madrason writer

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-house-12/