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A pile of clothes stacked haphazardly atop each other
resides in the corner of my room
In my morning sloth, it always waits for me obediently,
petrified in place but tingling with life when I have my back turned.
I am positive that it is sentient.
Simply observe the intentions behind its counterorganizational genius,
providing a system of convenience to myself
but utter chaos to others.
Is that what a noncaring entity would do?

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