I was an artist when I was four
I created masterpieces with ease and intent
From applying a slime greenish yellow paint
To my fathers jacket by hand
To painting my face with macaroni
With the use of a spoon
I was an artist who loved messes
Our house was always part loving
Part disaster zone
Hurricane Walker constantly turns over everything
Books end up in your underwear drawer
Marbles cover the floor and hide in dark corners
Important papers make it to the trash
While papers with a lack of importance
Wreak havoc  upon table tops and counters.
My bed room was lost to the clothes I can't
Stand to fold and put away neatly
I myself lost in the mess of writing on my walls