Down The Drain Poem by Nicolas Lusk
Down The Drain
I did not choose to be who I am, I awoke as is, a functional item. They come and go, standing before me, sitting atop me, some attentive, others careless, in the end they are all the same, these beings, feeding me their liquids of yellows, brownish solids of varying consistency, gaseous explosions, blemishing my polished ceramic bowl. I feel I may crack one day... what have I done to deserve this s#@t?
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4/27/2024 9:46:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
