Attic
Its just an old moldy attic.
You'll not see anything crazy or dramatic.
Its all just a real mess.
Take it from me its all just a bunch of stress.
I have to clean it from bottom to top.
Everytime I look around me the work is just begging me to stop.
Its hard trying to decide what has to be given away.
Everything just disappears any way.
Box after box and I still did not find my drawings all day.
poem by Lyda Mery
Added by Poetry Lover
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