Sad Poems | A Collection of Poems Written by I

Hoarder

My mother was a hoarder:
She'd hoard trash, trinkets and all.
Until a house we had no more,
And a dump filled with trash is all we saw.

But she said it was a sickness,
She said she was depressed.
She got let off the hook with the excuse of being stressed.
But a ruined childhood for three.

And there could have been a fourth.
But sometimes I bless that there wasn't.
What a horrid life it was to be born.