My head is mess.
The thoughts are jumbled up, unclear, imprecise and scattered around.
Filled with self-hatred, immoral thoughts, and evil desires.
But somewhere there is a thread worth holding onto.
My room is mess.
Things are not where they should be, a strange derangement in the mathematical sense.
Dust litters the shelves, clothes and boxes line the floor, nothing is where it belongs.
However the light finds its way between the clutter.
My family is mess.
None of us know how to say what needs to be said.
Each of us stuck in our own garbage, struggling alone.
Still, at least we share the silence.
My city is mess.
Hostile design herds the masses like sewage through the streets.
Homelessness and drug abuse runs rampant while public infrastructure rots.
Regardless between the cracks wildflowers grow.
My country is mess.
The politians distract us with petty quarrels as they line their pockets.
Ruled by those who's only desire is to consolidate power.
But power too can change hands.
My world is mess.
War pits brothers against each other under the guise of security and freedom.
Fascisim and capitalism have blended together into one, transforming everything into quantity.
Yet we get up everyday Mending Every Shadow into Sunlight.