It Was Me.

Crumbs line the floor.
Everywhere
EVERYWHERE.
And now I get angry.

I didn't make this mess.
It could not have been me.
Was it me?
It was ME!

So now I understand.
It's my fault.
I did this and I have to clean it up.

Where's the broom?
Where's  the dustpan?
I JUST SEE CRUMBS.

And they won't go away.
They won't dissappear.
I can't just forget.

They sheild my view.
My floor.
My mind!
They are inside me!
And I can't find the broom!

I can't ask a friend for help.
How could they see my space like this?
I'm not messy
They know that.
But I suddenly am!

Suddenly my life is ruined.
By these CRUMBS.
These tiny little iotas of fury.

No
They're not angry.
I am.
At them
At me.
At the broom.
At my floor.
At the things that caused the crumbs.
At you.

You read this.
You wonder.
But you don't find me a broom.
You don't find be a dustpan.
You just wonder.

What are the crumbs?