An unmade bed

My bed, unmade


An unmade bed

And a shambled rug,

Old crayon stains on the wall.


One sock lost,

One sock left,

Coffee spilled on the floor.


Tidy books

Arranged on shelves,

Stacked so high

They’re begging to fall,


A broken pencil

On an abandoned notebook

Next to the dusty exercise ball.


Unread words written,

And a pool of blood

Slithering its way into the hall.


“Please find me. 

Please help me

Before I lose all control.”