Home.

<font type="Times New Roman" size="3" color="blue"> Smoke stained walls and foul smelling drapes. This is home as I know it. Tobacco dyed teeth and nappy long hair. This is home as I know it. Cheap faded rags and torn cotton sheets. This is home as I know it. I lay staring at the cobwebs erasing the white of the walls. Home is what I call this place. My feet dangle off the frameless matress, inches from the filthy ground. Home is what I call this place. I breath in the smoke screened air, poluting my lungs ever so slowly. Home is what I call this place. I gaze out the curtainless window at the starless skies and the endless horizon of concrete slabs. Home is what I call this place. I turn my head towards my finger smudged door, listening to the lound snoring sounds from the nearby room's occupant. Home is what I call this place. And a happy home it is.</font>