With Mess

I am a bit okay with mess.
I like the fit of life with less.
Wrinkled clothes with creases.
Shoes with grooves, tears, and untied laces.
I’ll take the fruit that bears a bruise.
A pre-used suit with naught to lose.
And if I must, I’d have to say,
“You eat the crust, I’ll go and play”
Some have said that life is short.
That soon you’re dead you’ll lie in dirt.
But no. I’d guess that life is wide.
I own this mess, I will not hide.