Sweat runs down the side of the accumulator boredom tweaker
boxes full of the last decades build up, you your nest and your beak
Poor soul all choked up with all his own stuff and memories to seek
He is a keeper so to speak, keepsake collecting freak
Letting it all go to the fire may well break his heart
And that somehow he needs a spade to dig into the dark
into the uncertain fututre for any treasure he wants to hold on to
but the mess comforts him like a mother's hand on his shoulder
Why can't he just separate himself from his baggage
and the metaphor curdles into reality like stale milk at first
then like thick ropes spreading across his chest and his shoulders
and tears and stubborness choke him up weighing boulders
The fear of letting go outliving the fear of claustrophobia
as each year the overfilled shelves fatten and encroach greedily
Letting the past go, maybe not today, as the way you know the world
is your only way of coping with the current reality of your life
I'm not qualified to judge as dust becomes your master
I'm not your teacher or better mentor of grace so much faster
yeah you are going to feel it in your skin and your heart
the words "let it go" hear them for a start
Get the broom, soap, cloth and gloves
And when space becomes your love
maybe you can get closer to the stars
thank me for my motivational pun
and each rhyme you underlined for fun
Don't print it and hoard it I pray
Give it to someone who was like you yesterday
or better still just give it all away.
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