Limit: Two Tons.
That’s it. I’ve loaded up the mini-skip.
Its little limit has been satisfied.
Now, Haulier, come and take it to the tip
But not before you’ve spread a net to hide
The sheer enormity of what I’ve done.
The mighty pile in shameless disarray
Teeters like Ossa upon Pelion,
The cruel truth of what I’ve thrown away.
Not books or tools – both those are sacrosanct -
But so much other semi-precious stuff,
That, like an extra tooth, had to be yanked
Because it wasn’t relevant enough.
To see the back of it should bring relief
And not this synthesis of guilt and grief.
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