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Pile on , pile on I heap and move and pile
more and more I gather saving and crying all the while
no room to tidy no room to store, yet still I gather more
like squrrel gathering for a winter that will never come
I keep storing.
come clean come rearaange
come move one pile to there and one to hear
bringing it back once more
my mountain rises higher year by year.
I sit on top a cluttered throne
looking down blaming
this mess on anyone but my own.
Thrwoing away my stuff you say
I say no way and I cry forever more
Clinging to ever drop of jumble
In this chaos I make my home
Trying my best to clear away
never thorwing away anything
just saving, pretending
I am okay.
By: Bernice Bowling
