There's a monster in my closet.
I feed it everyday.
I know exactly what caused it,
And now it's here to stay.
It's crawling out my wardrobe,
Spreading across the floor,
Sending out scouts and probes,
Until I can't take it anymore.
A basket is my shield,
Old PJs are my armor,
Detergent packs I wield,
And lavender fabric softener.
The monster is a looming giant,
But I pick it off piece by piece,
As I dismantle the tyrant,
Of polyester, cashmere, and fleece.
I wrestle it down the hall,
And stick it in the spinning vortex.
Its screams can be heard by all;
It knows what comes next.
I throw in a detergent pack,
And quickly shut the door.
Before it can strike back,
I set it to cycle number four.
Water washes its layer of grime,
Then it's spun, steamed, and dried,
A sixty minute cycle at a time,
And I watch its death with pride.