Dirty Dishes

By: Sitara Seth

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Chore Poem

The plates were stacked in the sink,

all dirty and crusted, soon the place started to stink.

Spaghetti pasta was stuck in bowls,

they were cracked and chipped, it even had holes.

There were too many forks stuck with last night's pork.

I tried ton clean all the dishes,

but I couldn't fufill my mother's wishes.

The water kept running,

the spoons swam in the murky water, so now I had to do the plumbing.

Cling. The plates had now touched the ceiling,

and I had a feeling I would start screaming.

Flies were zooming everywhere and I had to beware of the terror.

The water was flowing quickly like a tsunami

and I started crying for my mommy.

The water rose to my ankles as I begged for the angels.

My mom ran into the kitchen,

but slipped on a piece of chicken.

"Sitara Seth!" she yelled like a vicious witch,

"This is why you don't clean the dirty dishes!"

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