Sense Sonnet - Acher

 My Messy Room

I can't remember when last out.

My Mom no longer comes to check.

She's given up, I have no doubt.

My room's a smelly, messy wreck.

It's hard to move about the place,

My maze of junk piled ceiling high.

Scrunched on my bed, I've still some space.

Compulsive hoarder, don't know why.

I'm compelled to hoard to the max,

Hang onto every that and this.

Creative artist with my stacks

Of garbage I've named My Abyss.

Someday my Mom will sadly assume

I'm a missing person in my room.