I'm leaving
the city that made me.
This city that smells
like a peach after rain.
It's full of junkies,
no one cares about the homeless
forever camped out, cursing
bankers earning six figure profits
still living with roommates.
Out of it again on the Ha'penney.
Watching the sun rise and wondering
how you could ever
live in a place that isn't
this filthy, this guilty,
this beautiful and pure.
This riddled with history.
With bullet wounded buildings
painting memories of not-quite-war.
Wide streets, tall terraced houses
pale era, ***** all over rural Ireland
yet still feels like home.
And you go and you go and you go.
Music bubbles up through cracks in the road.
I'm looking for a place where my womb
is my own.
I love you like a babby loves an alcoholic mammy.
Dublin, I love you to the bone.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC
I'm leaving
the city that made me.
This city that smells
like a peach after rain.
It's full of junkies,
no one cares about the homeless
forever camped out, cursing
bankers earning six figure profits
still living with roommates.
Out of it again on the Ha'penney.
Watching the sun rise and wondering
how you could ever
live in a place that isn't
this filthy, this guilty,
this beautiful and pure.
This riddled with history.
With bullet wounded buildings
painting memories of not-quite-war.
Wide streets, tall terraced houses
pale era, ***** all over rural Ireland
yet still feels like home.
And you go and you go and you go.
Music bubbles up through cracks in the road.
I'm looking for a place where my womb
is my own.
I love you like a babby loves an alcoholic mammy.
Dublin, I love you to the bone.
