he told their stories to
the sea and even it
can't help to weep

As stars the night sky illuminate,
Poetry does the darkness abate.

I cleaned my room today.
It started with the closet.
I tried everything on, and based on the fit, decided whether or not to toss it.
(I mean, donate.)
I filled two boxes.

Then I went in a clockwise motion from there, attacking and reorganizing everything I came across.
I took **** near everything out of my room so that I could mop it.
Then I put everything back in,
got drunk while watching Netflix in a very clean room,
and eventually wrote a ****** poem about it.

A game of the mind where you bring your own card deck
Where one on one is common and the action is direct
A game in which I easily excel
For it helps me shun reality, of real life I can dispel
Where I can summon an army at my beckoned call
And tear at my enemy no matter how defensive their wall
I snap my fingers and my opponents fall beneath me
But no matter how glorious the victory, I am left inside empty
I always search desperately for another game to blind my reality
No matter if the result is defeat or victory
But blissful ignorance I no longer have for a shield
And now in reality I must fight or be forced to yield