Bedroom War Poem by Conrad Seegert

My room is the aftermath of disaster
One where you can't work without a distractor
The clothes strewn across the floor
A place that no one can adore
The toys a battlefield that's stopped to rest
Books are piled in in the west

To the south the sheets a mountain
My water bottle becomes fountain
The beds a peak to be climbed
The legos spread out like mines
A place of great fear is the bin
A pool of lava boiling within

The ground begins to rumble
And waves of soldiers start to crumble
The world is filled with light galore
Clean my room?
What a chore.