There’s nothing more that I hate
Than the laundry I create.
All the bags of dirty pants,
Shirts, and socks, I just can’t.
And that’s right, bags with an “s.”
I have three. Oh, what a mess
My room can be
Because you see
When the space becomes no more
I’ll throw the clothes onto my floor.
And still my laundry is not done
Because laundry is just no fun.
I’ll clean before friends come hang out,
But always complain, whine, and pout.
My motivation is surely gone.
Sometimes it helps when music’s on.
I pick clothes up and put them in
The machine that’s set to wash and spin.
Then in the dryer they all go.
I’m halfway through this laundry woe.
When finished I think, “It could have been worse,”
Then change my mind, **** laundry (that’s a curse).
Each week I repeat my laundry gloom.
Did I mention the machines are next to my room?