My Room

Has changed. The teen’s furnishes carried away. All the contents from the loft, closet, and dresser are dumped all over the floors. My parents fuss about the dents, dings, scraps, and welts that cover their surfaces. Why, they ask? Every dent and ding a teen’s temper tantrum given form. Every scrap and soda ring a small reprieve from the world all out to get me, while you paid no mind. Now the dressers are new. The loft bed gone. All the contents left behind, obscure the floor. Everything changes, but soon change will not be so new and all the contents on the floor will find their place too.