It’s a mess
My dorm room
with clothes piled up to my knees;
My sleeping schedule
I wake up early go to bed late; wake up late go to bed early;
My social life
I used to be a butterfly, now my wings are clipped;
My moods
swinging back and forth so fast like dragon rides at carnivals – I never liked those things;
My stomach
oh my stomach
the doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong with me
a nuclear war inside me
leaves me constantly weak and dehydrated;
I think I know.
It’s a mess
All of it
And it’s affecting me
All of it.
Will I clean it up?
Will it clump together?