The skeletons of the things I have given up remain in the closet of my mind collecting dust
Things that once held such importance, such promise, such wonder are now discarded pieces of brighter life
Times pointless arrow destroys the new things that try to make a home here
All of the wonderful, beautiful things I have loved and built an imaginary life on are busted and broken
I doubt my fingers remember how to hold a pencil in a way that could sketch a new world to escape to
And that’s just one