When You Elect To Collect!

The cat collects toys and food. I eat the toys, which they find rude. I crap out the food as well. I guess my collecting has gone right to hell.

Do you collect?
What would that be?
Would you elect,
To telling me?

Did you know though,
That it is due to the brain in some?
Some part of it doesn't glow,
And they need to collect or they go numb.

I guess you'd called that a hoarder.
Those people are scary.
I'd run for the boarder,
And hop the nearest ferry.

Back to collecting.
The cat wants to know,
And I can't be neglecting,
Is there a point high or low?

Look at me.
I have lots of stuff.
It is fun to see.
But in the end just fluff.

Can't take it with you.
Can't even touch it.
For if you do,
Collectors have a fit.

Just sits in glass,
Collecting in mass.
Maybe even a singing bass,
That passes lots of gas.

If you have a singing bass collection,
That is kind of sad.
But it is your choice and election,
So power to you at your pad.

And you can collect all.
Even types of mold.
Maybe leaves from the fall,
Or things that cause a cold.

You could even go creepy,
Collecting those weird looking dolls.
Some even look weepy.
We saw them at Profanity Granny's halls.

So do you collect? Is there a point to it which you detect? In the end does it mean a thing? Maybe something that can make your bank account go cha-ching? That type of collection would be nice. Time may up the price. I'll go back to collecting food in mass and getting rid of what I don't need out of my little rhyming ass.

Experience spring, have a fling.