Tick. Tick. Tick
Life is passing me by.
seconds, minutes, hours.
Desperately clinging to relics of my past.
Old toys, letters… things I will never use
Yet I hold them with the utmost regard.
Somehow, these hoarded collections of junk
Bring me peace.
I feel at home, surrounded by
Snippets of my life.
Tiny pieces of myself,
Who I was
Who I wanted to be.
How did I become this person?
This jigsaw of crap
Which means nothing to others
And without which
I would cease to exist.
mistletoes
Exactly!!!!!!!!!!