A childhood-
Of scrapes and falls and parties and crushed and everything else that it represents, torn away like a bandage on a festering wound that never heals

My teenage years-
Friends, first-loves, smiles and screams,
Remembered, though nothing tangible lasts

Like pieces of me, hacked away, so as to prevent the rest from rotting

I am a hoarder of things

I know it to be selfish, greedy, even evil
But I cannot imagine a way to be otherwise

I am akin to a dragon-
Keeping watch over a vast pile of gleaming gold that doesn’t solely belong to me

If I am not careful, surely this will kill me

Leave me alone and sad,
Quietly dying, with no one at my side to share in the spoils of all my works until it is too late

I am a hoarder of things;
Because they hold history

Stories and memories that I wish to never forget