The laundry pile is piling up,
As I stand at the edge of oblivion.
I could really just toss them into the wash.
But for now, it has been put on pause.
If only life was as easy to handle as a pile of laundry,
It builds up and up when nothing is done.
But after a quick load or two it shrinks back down.
And all is left is the warm smell of clean linen and an empty basket.
Exhaustion takes a hold of me,
A suffocating headache and half-lidded eyes.
Getting up to stretch and yawn once more,
And begrudgingly having to face what's in store.
My eyes burn from staring at the screen.
There is so much that I need to complete.
A piling pile and a never-ending heap,
There would only be so much that I can handle.
