Some call it a “storage” or a holder of junk

Trinkets and talismans stored in a trunk

Mine holds old stories, that’s what is there

Of people and treasures that I used to care

A closet of things that once defined me

Miles of memories of who I used to be

A version of self that no longer lives

Nostalgia of having nothing left to give

A mountain of anxiety too daunting to climb

Forces down the creeping desire to rewind

It’s no wonder why I leave it there unmoved

And why nothing from inside has been removed

Holding years of secrets that have been carefully covered

All that lives in my time capsule will one day be discovered