my massive collection of mista

about before my eyes, my big collection lies, it is not to be moved, it is just to be viewed, till my demise. collection this is simple, collection this lies in my dimples, it is sometimes too difficult, and almost always a tumult, and maybe rarely an impel. i cannot avert my gaze, i cannot escape this maze, it is my collection of mistakes, and it sometimes really aches, all these dread-a-ful arrays.