Dear room,
I know
It's not your fault
That you're small
-you're supposed to be an office

Clean crisp piles of
White clear paper
Stacked and neat
But instead

You're cluttered
Like you were hit with a bomb
And cramped
With a bed, closet, shelves
And who knows what else

It can't be fun
I'm sorry it has to be this way

But you're an office
As a make-shift bedroom
Cluttered and cramped.