Real suffering
I want a house with a movie-script family,but instead I’m boxed inside a drug-stained apartmentstacked high with regrets. In my lonely chair, I rehearse old dreams,but time presses its boot on my back,crushing the last pieces of who I thought I’d become. Dirty carpet. Mold-rotted sinks.Family heirlooms buried in dust and shame.Clothes twenty years old, folded like memories that neverchanged.Photos of the past hang around my neck like a noose.Tears gather on the pile of bills that keep […]https://matthewhaubert.wordpress.com/2026/10/05/real-suffering-2/