Welcome back everyone!
Today I have another poem to share with you all. When I was younger, I used to be kind of a hoarder- I was always obsessed with some sort of toy or other trend, and I would need to have everything related to that current obsession. I would collect things, keep them all organized in a “display” fashion, and move on to the next, accumulating toys and junk. When I got older, this transitioned to obsessively collecting makeup, jewelry, and clothes. Around eighth grade, I completely changed my mindset and donated a bunch of stuff I didn’t use anymore (including the toys I’d been holding onto since elementary school) and now I live a much less materialistic lifestyle, although I can still have obsessive tendencies.
I was inspired to write a poem about this topic when my mom brought it up, wondering how I was able to change my mindset so rapidly. I’m not really sure of this myself- I guess I just realized I didn’t want a bunch of meaningless plastic and junk that would clutter up my life, and I wanted it to go to use somewhere else as soon as possible. Regardless, I thought it would make an interesting prompt for discussion in a poem.
Collector of Things
another thing to add to the pile- i stick it in the front because who wouldn’t be proud to have a shiny new thing? i’m not satisfied, because i know there’s more shiny things out there, shiny things that i want to put at the front of my pile because i am the ultimate collector. i can’t tell if there’s an emotional attachment here or not; i don’t feel anything but i also can’t part with these pieces of fabric and plastic. i’m enticed by the idea of more, and i keep on collecting. but i’ll never have enough.
there’s always someone who’s going to have more than you, my mom says, so don’t try to keep up. but i like my mounds of plastic, and i like the instant gratification of shopping and getting something new. it never gets old, right? because there’s always new things to be had. until it spirals out of control and it does get old because it’s not exciting anymore and you have to buy twice as much just to feel a fragment of that former shopper’s exhilaration and you’ve realized this is toxic. i don’t want to be plastic anymore, i say- i’m done.
I hope you guys enjoyed this poem! I know a lot of people can probably relate to some of the sentiments because materialism and shopping problems are so common today, and they’re often romanticized in the media. Please tell me if you have poetry prompts you’d like me to try my hand with or if you have any feedback on my work 🙂