No, not music to my ears,
You always have an excuse.
Of why you can’t clean your room.
There’s no reason you won’t choose.
Your room’s décor is disarray.
Knee deep in sports drink stash.
Smelly laundry, stinky sneakers,
Old take-out and more trash.
You always sleep until Noon.
Unbathed, disheveled hair.
What’s that smell from your room?
Emanating polluted air.
You need to go outside,
Be one of the ones among us,
Not turn into a mushroom,
Choosing a life of fungus.
The New Year’s now upon us.
You must change your daily regimen.
Otherwise, I’ll call Haz Mat.
Dispose of moldy specimens.
Again, you stand and argue.
The sound of your excuses.
Stock still and unmovable,
Like you hair filled with those mousses.
This time I put my foot down.
No, I’m not being so mean.
And, this is not an idle threat.
Grab this broom and start to clean!