These Pockets

Pockets brim Over,
Stuffed full of Stuff.
Packets of Plenty,
Enough is Enough.

Things I don't need,
Things I don't want.
This gets on my nerves,
If I can be blunt.

Keys stick in my leg,
Chap Stick for my face.
An old written tag,
This stuff has its place.

Identity badge,
An old shoe lace.
It's making me mad,
What is all this waste?

I'd have nothing at all,
If I had my way.
I'd just have a ball,
And Play All Day Long!

Author notes
This poem was written Monday morning during my lunch duty 10/08/12. It will be poem #12 in my second poetry book "Flounder on the Brain."