Poem 2/30

It's 6:12 pm and I have learned of your death from third hand sources and overheard phone calls. 
You and I were never friends and never will be.
We passed and never really spoken
unless is was about the dog
or the noise
or the indifference.
I called the police for you when he broke in.
Sad that he was actually the one who probably cared more for you than the stream of low-life parasites
floating/fleeing/screaming/ranting/partying
in the smelly/dirty/noisy housing they occupied with you.
And it all was too familiar and that's why I could name it.
Now all that remains is them
responding to those urgent phone calls from authorities
trying to find your family members
that they don't really know.
They are all that is left.
You are gone.
I wish that I was indifferent but I am actually sad.
This is how you ended.
Sometimes I watched as you left with some of these
made yourself pretty
laughter.
I am sad that you know peace now but in life never did.
You never knew what it was like to be clean
To have life staring full frontal in your face with all the beauty that it contains.