I just want everything to be clean and in order.
Does that make it a dysfunction or a disorder?
My daily routine continues. Please don’t hamper.
Or forever suffer from my fuming anger!
The whites stay in the white basket,
Colored ones go to the blue bucket,
And blacks should always be in the closet
As shoes should be paired right as one set.
All frames should be aligned straight
From the smallest of lightweight
To the biggest, let that always be the state.
Clear. Clean. Straight. And in order. Oh wait!
Do I spot on the floor a black thin thread?
I’ll go sweep again, look under the bed
For hairballs and cobwebs I truly dread.
Crooked and twisted, I get so frustrated!
The cracks on the wall are quite disturbing.
Oh no! Even the pastel paint is fading!
I want to cry out loud, my darling,
For today, I see disorder in everything.
Can’t you hear me beg my plea?
I don’t like anything messy and dirty.
It’s not a disorder, just some symmetry.
It’s just the way I am. It’s my personality.