Destined to neglect,
taken to meet yourself.
The anxious expectation.
Immersed in loneliness, the enemy is who you least expect.
The acid erodes the soul, makes you see yourself as part of this dump you share with the roaches, which you kindly call 'friends'.
Your only way out is to look up and see if it is there an exit above your head.
You can't look down anymore.
Aware that what you expect may not be better than now, but still, it could be the only option.
The sandy taste from up above does not differ from the dirty smell of grease from down here.
The taste of grease in here comes from the sewer, but up there is the earthy taste of neglect.