my mind is a ramshackle residence

This job is trying
the landlord, the handyman, the caretaker
the bag of swill that takes the beating,
you figure it all out and then pay for the problems,
a position where the closest thing to comfort
is a list of complaints from the tenants
and like all the repairs desired by the bitch upstairs
it only
grows
and
grows.
I try to look her in the eye
to remind her of why this crooked old place is so cool,
but no! she says
the roof leaks,
well thats the woman upstairs who drinks too much
and neglects to twist her tap, just lets it flow
leaves the window open too
and invites all kinds of undesirables in.
The dry wall is crumbling,
but thats where the autistic girl is
I remind, and she cant help herself
a lot like the one in room 6 who they say's
seen too much or done too many things
they can never remember which
but she twitches so bad she cant bare to be seen
so she lives off of that
which fits through her mail slot,
a sad life some say
but at least she's lived, even if regret
is all she's left with- there are those with less.
The roof shakes!
The kid plays and its music that moves this place
I wont kick that one out
no complaints, its my home too
though you've plied me till I feel like quitting
I've a work ethic, morals to live by
and Ill likely be here longer than you.