The Hoarder

I am a hoarder
All of my yesteryears
Are locked up
In a trunk
In the dust-choked attic
A feast for all
Tomorrow’s mice.

They will gnaw holes
In my old schoolbooks
And in my battered diaries
That encapsulates all that I am
Stained by so many years
Chronicles of family madness
But, you must see that all this
Is not the only me

There is more
Much more