My Room has orange peels
from last week. Clothing
is piled on my chair.
The cupcake pan from
Lizzie’s birthday is balancing
between my makeup bag
and almost empty shower
supplies. Shirts are piled
atop my book shelf. There
simply isn’t room in the
drawers. The walls are
covered with posters,
pictures, and letters. Scarves
hang on the door and
my computer plays Van
Morrison. I sit in my
turquoise bed in an old
t-shirt and purple *******
writing poems.