A mess
Why am I so messy?
Is it because I live with people who aren’t clean, or because I’m a klutz?
Either way my OCD is screwed up; it’s something I must deal with.
Every single day, every hour, every minute,
A mess, a fucking mess.
All the garbage, all the waste,
Shouldn’t be there.
All the unenforced no pollution law don’t work,
All the silent laws don’t work in public institutions.
Maybe life is a mess, not people.
But when will it end?
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