I walk to the door and it is open,
I walk inside and I am frightened,
I look around and I am roped in,
I see the clutter and I am tightened
Socks, pant, shirts, you name it, the more I look I am hoping
This treacherous mess is not mine
The more I look the more I cry.
As I try to come up with a rhyme
I hear a boom behind my head
As I realize this is my mess instead