My Messy Room

A messy room like a dumpster fire, a messy room every summer.

I am a mess but I never confess, but all the rest, they all detest.

My grander room never exists, on much of a seasonal, cease and desist. 

My stakes are high so all abiding, messy rooms filled with numbers, 

only all the gamblers have a measure of standards.

Too much of a mess, I might not grow up, such a determination might give me a reservation. 

With too many numbers, I might not grow up, I have decided, I wanted to revive it. 

My messy room might be doomsday but with all the mess, I have a reminder.

I love my room, its beings, and its hues. 

My little window makes me a little jello, I have to make a referral, to clean my window. 

I once was a squirrel, and now I am a turtle. I think old age is giving me a death row. 

I might be slow but things will not be molded, therefore I will show-go.

My clothes wrinkled like there was no tomorrow, but past, 

present, and future I am shocked by many wonders. 

Talk about wonder, my bedsheet smells fonder, and now I hardly want to become a wanderer.

Reaching for my melatonin, reassured myself that I would be a goner.

But why? It was a wonderful experience.

I was startled by the aroused as the numbness turned into kindness. My body started to melt as my face started to derail. Every minute I become a sled. It’s hot!

Clock beating my body reaching, heart pumping, so my body trying. 

I tried, and I cried, give me credit, I think I might die.

My life is cuttin’, but my kitten might die sooner.

Melatonin, melatonin. Contrary to my bedroom, I find it fulfills serenity.

Leaving my body, I am now free.

I reach for my melatonin so that the somber night turns to dawn. 

I reach for my melatonin so that sad night turns to dawn.

I reach for my melatonin so that frightful night, turns to dawn.

I will reach for my melatonin so that I can celebrate the dawn.

I am now free!

Free as a squirrel on a pine tree.