Clutter to the brim

Overload of clutter and stuff

She walks in and she can’t smell it

Or hear anyone telling her to clean it

That is her room and, even the walls stink like how she feels.

Not who she used to feel.

Pile pile pile pile pile piles of piles of piles

Of clothes and “that’s my business”

“It’s all Organized Clutter” she’ll say

She’ll waste a day away in that room.

She’ll go outside, live her life and talk and laugh and eat and sit.

But at the end of every night, she will go back to that room. Sleep in this room.

Ah, sad room.