My room is a mess
Clean clothes are in a heap next to overflowing and empty drawers
The binder that I will reluctantly open tomorrow morning is sprawled out on my bed
My room’s a mess
Papers from last week and three months ago cover my desk and my closet is overflowing with sentimental junk I can’t force myself to get rid of
My room is a mess
But my bed is made
And it’s okay
I’ll fold my clothes
I’ll throw out the old papers
And I'll hold onto the birthday cards from 4 years ago
My room’s a mess but I’m not worried
I’ll clean it up
At least my bed is made
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