castle

My mind's a messy bedroom,
and I don't know where to start
when it comes to climbing through
the cluttered chambers of my heart.

I tiptoe through the trash heap.
To function, I must ignore the piles
that grow bigger, louder by the day
'til they scream and stretch for miles.

I cover myself with clothing
that's been picked up off the floor.
"It's okay," I tell a wrinkled shirt.
"I've been there many times before."

My mind's a messy bedroom
I don't want anyone to see.
My heart's a dungeon of indecision,
my body both beauty and beast.

A chattering enchanted castle,
teeming with sentient, out-of-place pieces
longing to be lifted
from their spells, to be set in their places.

The spells are always lurking,
so if you see me in a wrinkled shirt,
please ask me how I'm doing,
if I trust you, I might offer a tour

of my mind, that messy bedroom
and my heart, that prison cell.
Could you possibly find a princess
in this crazy, cluttered castle?