The Lady in the Hall

I often hear my neighbors fight,

falling asleep to dimming light.

Those constant beggars in the halls,

and loud shouts heard through the walls.

Her eyes are sunken low and frail,

the lady in the hall, a lady that’s pale.

The boyfriend I have yet to see

yet she offers his child, his boy, to me.

Still, addicts are predictably reckless,

and to secure a night’s rest,

I knocked and ran, leaving behind

200 dollars at their door.

Now they don’t live there,

or anywhere,

and I don’t sleep,

anymore.