I don't know how it happens.
It simply seems to be.
Where ever I may find myself,
a mess will follow me.
Daddy told me long ago
It started as a child.
My sister was perfection
She walked about in style
But I could walk into a room
I'd never seen before
and somehow things would follow me
and land upon the floor.
I quickly learned to never buy
clothes in shades of white.
Sudden stains will just appear
Be it day or night.
Closets are a place to hide
Clutter I have kept
It's hard to throw away my stuff
I just might need It yet.
An empty box, an old receipt,
a worn out pair of pants,
a wrapper from a treasured gift,
a card from my dear aunt.
Ok, my story has been told.
I simply will confess.
No matter what I try to be,
My life is just a mess.
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a poem about a mess! As long as your poem is about making a mess, or encorporates the topic of messes, anything goes. Creative approaches are welcomed. Contest voters will be asked to consider the topic when making a choice for a winner. Now let's get sloppy! |
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What A Mess!
Contest Winner
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