You say the word hoarder
You say it's just stuff
But objects can be tied to memory
It makes downsizing tough.

And yeah, I know it's an old tshirt
And I know it doesn't fit
But the last time I wore it
Life was good, everything clicked.

And I'm aware it's just a cookie jar,
And maybe I don't like sweets
But that was my grandmothers-
Having it on the counter gives my soul relief.

So we judge messy houses
Or even just the ones with clutter,
Never asking how someone's brain works
Just expecting them to be better.

Materialism killed community.
"Don't buy any more things"
But what if you didn't buy them?
Just an emotional collector-
Value no one sees.

Just a giant cast iron skillet
Collecting dust on the stove
You ever wonder who cooked meals in that? Or did you just decide it's got to go?

It's just an old cologne bottle-
There's barely any left
You think it's taking up space
But they stopped making grandpa's scent.

I could go on and on,
Listing examples for days
But sometimes in these objects
That's where a persons memory stays.

We attach meaning to items,
And it doesn't always make sense
But maybe we could talk about it
Before deciding a persons a mess.