Drowned Under

As my heart has bled all blood to the surface of death
The tattered rags of the poor clothing hang on the lines of shame
Ripped up newspapers line the insides of the entry
To an abandoned house where we used to sleep
Only drugs make it here these days with needles piling up to the ceiling in a corner webbed
By the spider who crawls just like those condemned 
With the hollow eyes of furry wanting to attack
Those to blame and those to hate drowned under once again