Some people collect trinkets
Remnants of travels
Souvenirs of journeys afar
Others collect letters
Treasures from long ago
Bringing them back to a forgotten time
Some bury their pain
Hidden underneath layers of junk
Losing reality amongst the rubble
Once I met a girl so sad and lost
Her possessions could not be seen
Hidden it was behind fortressed walls
Its weight so heavy a load to bear
Her collections weighed heavy
Little jagged pieces of a broken heart
Sorrow and losses followed her daily
Collecting pain and misery
The only thing she knew how to do
Lost amongst her pain all the shattered dreams
Reblogged this on Self-Harm Sanctuary and commented:
Zachariah </3 RIP