Predictable Mess Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

When a baby,
Not yet a year old.
Or capable to walk.
And has just begun to crawl.
Is heard one day to say...
'This mess is getting predictable! '

And...
Those words to you to hear,
Are shocking.
Jaw dropping.
Mind blowing.
To know,
It can not be the food...
That baby,
Has been given to eat.
Or the cleanliness of the home,
You know is kept clean.
As well as neat.

Those words heard to hear,
Should be a clue...
There is something else,
Going on that is wrong.
Even a baby...
Not yet a year old.
Is aware of.

Without taking a step,
Outside into the World.
To notice something,
Repetitious wrong.
That is skunk funky.
But they just can not,
Understand what it is.
To put their hands on it.

When that is witnessed,
To observe and hear happen?
You just may have ignored,
The troubles of today too long!
And that baby,
Should be asked for advice...
As fast as possible,
Can be quick!