A dreadful clutter fills my room
In bags of every size
Where all it came from I don’t
But it’s mine I surmise
There’s camping gear and lots of books
A wet beach towel, ew
More T-shirts than I’ll ever need
And dress clothes are there too
A hundred feet of rope still hide
A miniature Saint Pat
My checkbook sits inside a bag
Alongside several hats
And somehow all this needs to fit
Inside my little room
I happen to suspect that I’m
Now facing minor doom