I swept the floors from front to back again
the dust and dirt were clinging to the cracks
But stubbornly I redirected them
into a waiting pan beside the trash
I swear I heard them screaming, protesting
they had a right to be there just because
life becomes disorganized, disgusting
so they find refuge underneath the rug
It's not their fault for hoping, lingering
cloaked beneath secret yarns no one will see
until I show up and sleepless, stumbling
uncovering their true identity
They hide out in an unsafe place with hope
But I can see them in between thick ropes
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