Hotel is Not Yours To Trash, Life Is Not Yours To Take

Angst with bone trembling
Is how I woke up this morning.
I don't recall when I fell asleep because of the smell.
This hotel is cold;
And quite frankly falling apart.
A piece of the ceiling hit my head.
The lighting is sallow and gloomy;
nothing special for my eyes to look at really.
Just one temporary damn ugly hotel room. 
I haven't been here long, but the hotel has made me sick.
With its boring colors and it's same old, same old smell.
My eyes feel weak
My brain won't stop
And my head is warm.
This hotel has got me down and weary. 
I have to leave now,
Even though checkout is in a week.
I have to leave now.
This hotel is toast if I don't.
"This room is not yours to toast" says the receptionist.


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