Pick Up Your Mess

*Friction — Chapter Two.*

An unconscious threat.

It is always understandable.
You are upset.
You are strained.
Drained.
Existence is wearing.
But
can you please pick up your mess?

It’s often relatable.
Circumstances are challenging.
Burdens are tough.
And you are overused.
But
it will only take a moment.
So
can you pick up your litter?

What is your excuse this time?
Is it rebellion?
Are you Machiavellian?
A thirst to be the villain?
Or maybe
attention?
We don’t care.
Just pick up your dirt.

What now?
No, we don’t want to hear it.
Senseless?
Careless?
You don’t own the ruin.
You inherit it.
But it’s not your legacy.
You are just brief.
And your mess is irrefutable.
Your goddess is shallow.
Yet your dust is fatal.
So
for god’s sake pick up your mess!