- Books, Literature, and Writing
Mess Up - a Poem
Part of growing is messing up.
You mess up your face with Gerber. You mess your diaper. You mess your pretty clothes with food. You mess up your toys; you think they’re no good. You mess up your closet. You mess up your mom’s too wanting her corset. You mess up your teeth with sweets. You mess your pretty sheets. You mess up your bedroom over and over. You mess up your knees each fall from your bike and your forehead when you duck for cover. You mess up coming to school on time. You mess up your mom’s day with the principal blaming her for your lateness, and whine! You mess up with honesty your parents taught you because the principal caught you lying; isn’t it a crime? You are grounded and allowance cut in half. You mess up honesty the second time because you stole money from your mom’s craft. You mess up your math grades, they are all red. You cleaned up that mess and you graduated.
Then, your blooming self begins to fall in love unconditionally...
Your young loves mess up your heart emotionally, but you remained wise, unblind; you didn’t mess up your mind. You moved on, entered the stage of marriage and have kids. Your rules are messed up of all the rids- "get rid of this, get rid of that"; "don't do this, don't do that". You find a job, you’re good at it and you work hard, but your friends mess up your job. Now, your life is messed up, like a dirty swab. You mess up marriage. You mess up trust and courage. You mess up with your own feelings. You find new love and hope no endings. You think he is being naught. You mess up your thoughts. You mess up communication and shut down. He makes four tries to patch things up, but you mess up a nice gesture and rather frown. So then, you mess up your sleep and sleep in your daughter’s bedroom for 3 nights. You say you’re trying not to mess up with sweet love, but you mess up with fights. You, tantrum you. You, stubborn you. You mess up. You mess up.
"What a day!" you exclaimed, your mood is messed up again.
Because of a promise made to you and that promise never came true. You swear you’ll finish it yourself in your own ways. You are mad, so you mess up your face. You sing looking at your messed up face in the mirror listening to rock ‘n’ roll. You don’t want to mess up with your 'already-messed-up-head', so you yourself console. You turn your computer on and the Internet is messing up good. You get p****d you can’t Facebook nor Hub; it’s messing up your mood. Then and now, the wireless signal is back, Facebook is open, YouTube is on and…you are writing on HubPages, “Mess Up” is the topic and here you are reading it…so remember, don’t mess up, you twit.
≈♥≈ ©coffeegginmyrice 09.14.12