It's not the best
Of neighborhoods
But why throw her out
In this weather
Just because she's
Old, ugly and white.
Probably cost
Too much
To maintain
In the style
To which she
was accustomed.
Now brutishly
Tossed out,
She's probably
Broke as well.
No doubt replaced
By a young pretty thing
With complexion
Clear and clean
And if that's not all
To tell,
One that's cheap and
Tawdry as well.
So there she sits
On the curb
Waiting
For the end.
Will someone
Pick her up
And use her as she's
Been used before.
Or will she be
Tossed aside
On the heap
Of waste
Like so much
Fodder
For society's
mill.
Some will say
This is the fate
To which
she was born
Nature designed her
To be nothing but a vessel
Scorned and kept away
from prying eyes
Always serving her master
and his needs
to the very end.
The society's unkind to a water closet.
I enjoyed this poem you know you’re going there just where you have to read on
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well cultivated path, to the unexpected destination. Cheap 'thoughts' turned to clean humour. Pleased to have called.