Hoarding

Everyday she would head
to St. Vincent’s
Goodwill
or Salvation Army

With a fist full
of dollars
and a mission
to fill her
soul

On weekends
in good weather
she would head out
driven
fist full of dollars
Checking garage sales
estate sales
and stuff left on
the curb
for trash day

Looking
always looking
for a lost
treasure

Her house
reflecting her madness
had fallen
into ruin
a lost
treasure

Something
a fist full of
dollars could
not
repair

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