Poetry of thought

Habits

I've cleaned my room.
I'm settled, and happy.
But I know it won't stay like this.

No matter how hard I try,
How closely I keep an eye on it,
I always slip back into a mess.

Even now I see it.
My shoes sprawled out.
My desk littered with dishes.

I'm tired of slipping.
I'm tired of working so hard.
I'm tired of your rules.

No matter how hard I try to get better.
You always come back.
And make a mess in my room.