I like things.
They make me happy.
Stupid things, I buy just to possess.
I might use them, maybe, someday.
But the buying makes me care a little less.
I like my things, they make me glad.
They make me forget the thoughts I had.
Just for a while, when I walk down the aisle.
I can absentmindedly smile.
I like to purchase my little products.
It gives me joy, improves my conduct.
I like to plan just how I’ll use them:
so carefully, I don’t blow through them.
Sometimes they sit and wait for me,
so I can choose just what they’ll be.
Sometimes I rush and that’s ok.
I like my things. I think I’ll use them all someday.