The Last Two Weeks of Freedom

I lived there for almost a year

Trapped

In that toxic atmosphere

Everything went wrong from the start

Who gives them the right to lord over us?

The owner wanted to handle all the formalities in a single day

And that was precisely when I was feeling my worst

Exhausted from packing all night, having had no sleep, food, or drink

And with an urgent need to use the bathroom

Who gives them the right to lord over us?

I waited for her with all my belongings, paying a steep price

For a humiliation that reached its peak, and which later turned out

To be the cause of all my troubles

I paid cash to escape yet another acoustic hell

Who gives them the right to lord over us?

Every time I went out, it was a joy

The feelings were completely different from these

Locked in her apartment, so brutally murdered

Taking her daughter and my two men as witnesses

Who gives them the right to lord over us?

She must be blind, self-absorbed

Imposing her own will, decisions, and deadlines

Me? Supposedly fighting her?

I only wanted a little decency shown to a client in need

Who gives them the right to lord over us?

Without tenants, they wouldn’t exist

Their rooms, apartments, and houses would yield no profit

No money to satisfy their extravagant whims

Meanwhile, I hid mine in all the books I’ve written

Including the ones about them

But they will never find out

That is for the best