Worthless stories from the drunken source, Create the hovel and this curse.
What lies ahead in despair,
As laughter and scoffs fill the air.
Oh, could it be my dignity or maybe even shame?
All that's left is stale *** breathe and tears from everyday.

These puddles grow into a lifestyle,
I can't let time stay for a while.
Noone is going to be sorry,
Blood omits the story.
So carry out the rest of luck with help from the abandoned.
And let this problem be the first of many to be done with.