Under the Surface

I sat alone on my floor

My eyes glazed, my heart quiet

Watching the calm accumulation of my mess

Dirty laundry and outfits unworn, piling

Like a like rainfall these objects land, it’s not chaos

Alone on my floor I sat free

 

This was far from chaos

The soft rain piling

Lost shoes and disheveled throws lay quiet

Unaffected, I sank into the floor

My mind wandering free,

I did not see any mess

 

More and more raindrops piling

Lightly, dresses --new and old-- pitter patter quietly

My room strengthening in its mess

But it was no chaos

Unaware, I remained free

I sat ankle deep on my floor

 

The water grazes my elbows, my mind free

Objects from a foreign life piling

To me it was no chaos,

but only a little mess

I did not mind the water, it was quiet

I resided in another world as I sat on my floor

 

The water covers my ears, making all quiet

Once matching socks and gloves, now high piling

The rain beginning to rinse my eyes and distort my freedom

I looked down about and saw no little mess

Around me was a growing chaos

Now aware, I sat on my floor

 

“Oh dear, I’ve made such a mess!”
I am drowning in wrinkled cloth--high piling

Panicking in a disaster, all is unsettlingly quiet

Where I was once free,

I now saw chaos

I must swim to the surface to clean the floor

 

Soft piling of things has lead to chaos

Uncomfortably quiet,

I sat on my messy floor--longing to be free.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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