My Storage Unit
When lost and looking, if I say “where am I?”
Don’t think me witty
I will bend to look underneath ten years of storage
But it is best that you do not look with me
For in this place I have found curses and dangerous delights
Made up of truths and flatteries and lies
And even though I often fear the answer
I may ask again, “where am I?”
Mine are the ribbons and drawings and diaries
Scattered and better left behind
And I may stray to look for one thing or another
But I’m always careful to keep my search in mind
I fear often of this decade old storage unit
Not having seen the light in quite some time
That I will look beneath some painfully earned memory
And I will ask “where am I?” and myself I will find