I have no idea what I'm doing...

The mess

It is scientifically proven,
That intelligent people,
Are more messy,
If this is the case,
Then our daughter,
Is extremely bright.

She is like a hurricane,
In our house,
A very quiet,
But deadly one.

She leaves a trail,
Of little destructions,
Everywhere.

You’ll go to the toilet,
And find a sweater of her,
On the ground,
You’ll make dinner,
And find her lap-top,
Sitting between the pots and pans,
You’ll do laundry,
And find her phone,
In the laundry basket.

But she takes it a step further,
Besides the little traces,
Of mess,
She leaves everywhere.

On some places,
She’ll let it explode,
Some of her favorites,
Are the dining table,
And the bathroom.

The dining table,
Will be covered,
In craft stuff,
Like glue,
Paint,
And baking soda.

She makes slime,
Bounce balls,
Drawings,
And inspirational cards,
Lovely,
Perfect,
But she leaves the mess,
For days,
If you like.

The bathroom,
She’ll cover the floor,
In towels,
And clothes,
Toothpaste in the washing table,
And hair,
Everywhere.

And don’t even get me started,
On the sofa,
Let’s just say,
It’s a place for her,
To keep stuff,
Not for us,
To sit in,
Are you crazy?

But in this mess,
This all consuming mess,
Is a girl,
That is bright,
Studies hard,
Has an amazing sense of humor,
And a laugh that is amazing.

She saves animals,
By becoming a vegetarian,
And tries to help out,
Everyone,
Without judgement.

She’s eleven,
But sometimes sounds,
Like a wise woman,
That should be like 180,
And maybe her mess,
Is my mess,
The one that’s,
In my head,
And she just wants to help me,
Clean that up.

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