deepundergroundpoetry.com
Messy Room
I can always tell the state of one’s mind
By the type of room they keep.
Is there clutter galore?
Clothes thrown on the floor?
Their thoughts must be in a heap.
Are there dishes with mold,
Like secrets untold,
Sitting high upon a shelf?
Is there trash everywhere?
Not giving a care
About nothing;
Not even oneself.
A room.
A mind.
Are two of a kind.
A place to store endless things,
But we must decide
What we store inside;
To feel the peace a clear room can bring.
By the type of room they keep.
Is there clutter galore?
Clothes thrown on the floor?
Their thoughts must be in a heap.
Are there dishes with mold,
Like secrets untold,
Sitting high upon a shelf?
Is there trash everywhere?
Not giving a care
About nothing;
Not even oneself.
A room.
A mind.
Are two of a kind.
A place to store endless things,
But we must decide
What we store inside;
To feel the peace a clear room can bring.
Published 5th Feb 2022
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