Beneath the Rug

What is that mound beneath your rug?
With certainty, without a shrug,

And truthfully, please do tell,
About this pile where you dwell.

Your broomming only moves one way.
And puts your cleansing on delay.

Does the stuff you’ve swept beneath,
Reveal the truths behind your teeth?

The what, and why, and for whom?
Go on and grab that dandy broom.

You want this room to be just so.
It’s far from that, you should know.

The elephant in the room,
Could fit beneath that rugly bloom.

The rug that hides this dirty stuff,
Looks like it might have had enough.

You must know this cannot last.
Before too long, that troubled past . . .

How does it feel to hold these back?
Your insides under firm attack.

How would it feel to have it gone?
Tidy your room and then move on.

Let the dirt fall where it may.
The unforeseen have its say.
With your fears on display.

That’s what will happen anyway.