The Collector Poem by Alfred Ramos

I am a collector
I collect dreams
Good or bad
Happy or sad
Even if they are coming apart at the seams
I am a collector
I collect hearts
Broken hearts
Cold hearts
Even if they have no spare parts
With no endings or no starts
I’m a collector
I collect things
Things forgotten
Be it silk or be it cotton
Some call it trash
That I turn in for cash
Lest it spoil and become rotten
I am a collector
I collect broken toys
That don’t make any noise
Dolls and trains
Balls and chains
No matter whose life it destroys
I am a collector
I collect lost emotions
Tossed away in all the oceans
My life is full
Sometimes cruel
For this there is no magic potions
Yes I am a collector
I even collect baseball cards