Concrete world

I like my concrete world. I walk down the stairs, look for floor # 18 and plop down on my sorry a@#.  I watch the balled up receipt I threw in the corner  of the stairwell, five weeks ago, to confirm not even the janitor goes there. I sit in the corner of the world I know most I won't be able to hurt anyone. Because there's no one around. I'm all alone. So alone.

I sit and tell myself I'm here by all  by myself.