A man lived on a lone hill
His house full of different collections
From Sunday to December he would collect until
His house was packed with items
Skeletons n rocks n bones
Bloating every corner
All with a shine done
He would everyday
For years he collected
Until the years caught up
And his head detected
Another pair and another pair of voices
"Hello!" they would say
Having conversations with him
The heads and bones sway
"Hello" he would reply
Until one snowy day
His body couldn't take it anymore
"Stop it! Stop it!" He would cry
Not looking where he was going
And the cold overtook him
The wetness draining him down
He took a final breath, a hum
As the lone collector's colletion is stuck on a lone hill.