When I look at the dump I see an array of things that have long been forgotten
Then I see me the dummy that was dumped by an ever bigger dummy
I see the tattered and torn clothes and a doll that has no head because of an older cousin
It’s no longer a place for trash; but the place where we go to be erased out of memory
Although it’s smelly and gross if you look really close you’ll find a sea of lost memories
In the dump I see a broken toy car once dumped by an enraged older brother
Everything in the sea meant something to someone, maybe a sense of joy for a child
So you see, the dump was never meant for trash, instead it has become a place where we drop off old and sometimes new memories only to be re-connected with them later on