Empty Containers

I kicked the tin can across the floor,

     it rattled like my thoughts, lost in the fray,

     echoes of chaos spilling from every door,

     a reminder of messes I can’t keep at bay.

A friend dropped in, sharp eyes on the mound,

     the kitchen a warzone, dishes piled high,

     the clutter like thoughts all tangled and bound,

     each crumpled can shouting, "Look, here’s why!"

The chaos I chase is an endless refrain,

     I can’t seem to manage the storm in my head,

     yet the can rolls on, a soft clatter of pain,

     a symbol of living, of paths left unsaid.