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It's only stuff,
No more no less,
It clutters the house,
And brings a smile at best.
It seems we all like to have it,
All kinds, of different stuff,
And though we have a large pile of it,
We will never have enough.
We can not take it with us,
When we pass away,
Someone else will get our stuff,
Or it's trash of the day.
Someday we will learn
All we need is a little pile 
To get us through the day
Instead of stacking stuff so high,
It is always in the way
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Poetry.com 4.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 6 reviews.
Mike Brindley More than 1 year ago
excellent  of fate 
tony right More than 1 year ago
it all ends up in the garbage...keep sharing
Chrissy Bortz More than 1 year ago
Quite relateable
Bhupathi Prabhakara Rao More than 1 year ago
it is a different stuff
Amiadra Arrington More than 1 year ago
Good work
Kay Day More than 1 year ago
straight to the point and full of truth
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