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Right Next Door

The pulse is coming through the wall
With the bass cranked up far too loud
And I can hear the mad witch wail
A member of the crackhead crowd

I tend to lie here in the night
And try to get a little rest
But my wakefulness is still induced
My temper now put to the test

I do consider homicide
But realize the consequence
So I sit down and try to write
Trying to make a little sense.
Written by crowfly
Published
Author's Note
Another neighbor poem, but such a catharsis! She's been ordered to leave with a non-renewal of her lease, but she's dragging her heels.  Hopefully she will be out of here soon.  Until then...
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