Silly Materialism

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.


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