I Hide in the Laundry Room

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I hide in the laundry room
my family thinks I’m washing,
I trip on old Doc Martin boots 
and dream of 80’s moshing.

I shift my junk from pile to pile 
to clear a tiny section,
Some old lady’s watching me. 
Nope. That's my reflection.

I hide in the laundry room
my family thinks I’m drying,
Wet laundry sat, it’s musty now, 
or is a rodent dying?

I poke through the candy drawer 
stuff snickers in my pocket, 
scratch my arse and wonder why 
our bulbs don’t fit our sockets.

I hide in the laundry room
my family thinks I’m folding,
When I hear your footsteps near 
I find some clothes for holding.

I sort and roll a sea of coins 
print labels with bad words,
I make a sticker workout chart 
then change to tally turds.

I hide in the laundry room,
my family thinks I’m mending,
I wish that I could stay for years 
but see my secret ending.

I’d really like to wash some clothes 
but cannot reach the dials,
One day I’ll need the ironing board 
but it’s behind the piles.

Help yourself to shoe goo,
take some thrift store glitter glue 
Your clothes won’t fit you anyway 
‘cause while I hid you grew.

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