Hoarder

Descending this abyss I’ve built

Ripe for excavation

It brims with muck I’ve cast aside

And yearns for sanitation

 

Somehow walls have been erected

And countless doors locked up so tight

I’m going to need some heavy tools

To really do this right

 

Rusted rotting iron

With no hole for a key

I’m forced to sit and ponder

How old these rooms could be

 

What lies beyond the welded doors

With what can they be broken

Just what lies in wait for me

Once they are finally open

 

Each door feels like a memory

Though I cannot place it

Perhaps these barriers remain

For I’ve not the strength to face it

 

I feel my way through endless halls

Each door like solid rock

And finally it comes to me

So I ball my fist and knock