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So I had a job as a teen in an old peoples home, just some of my thoughts.

My first day. You will get used to-
The smell of piss and overcooked
Food and the death, The death, The death-
I surmised this from their tepid
conversation- I never did
Rather, Took to hiding instead.
It is amazing how many
cupboards can be found when one tries.

Another favourite was, of course-
pretending to be busy. I
became a master of milling
around. and then perfected
the intense, deeply thoughtful stare-
though half the time they didn't know
I was there, It was as if
I was part of the furniture.

It wasn't as if i didn't
Care. I cared too much
and frequently it became too
much. at night, I saw their faces
still. Their haunted faces filled with
confusion and fear, fear, fear
-I try not to think of it now.

No,
I try not to think of it now.