Cold concrete floor and deafening silence br locks on every door displaying numbers br no names or personalities, no music or kid’s steps br just the sound of all seasons rushing to escape br sneaking through the cracks are our collective tales. br br Old photo albums, and dresses with there tags br unopened Christmas presents, and the crystal wine glass br love letters from the seventies and teddy bears from the past br Oh! grandma recipes books and old biker pants. br br Ballet dancer shoes and the exercise sound tracks br broken plastic chairs and plastic covered sofas br empty perfume bottles and the broken music box br the left over gift wraps and of course dirty dolls. br br The babies’ first shoes and grandpas' eye wears br old crumbled maps and mangled license plates br The high-school diplomas and dried gummy bears br college essay papers and expired credit cards. br br The unfinished craft projects and dried paint brushes br dust dressed magazines and the old version software br mismatched socks with holes and smaller blouse with stains br the forgotten changes in the pockets and washed up dollar bills. br br Wondering through the coldness of Public-Self-Storage br are our defiant tails 'occupying' unnecessary space.