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.