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March 1, 2010
Scrubbed Fresh I sit and wait,
As if sailors use me as their bait.
The janitor’s peculiar machine,
Slides smoothly on me for protection.
Like a chubby man’s plate being nice and clean,
I mirror people’s reflection.

Scrubbed Fresh I am granted with no luck,
In this bathroom I am stuck.
I asked to be pretty and polished,
That is my only law.
But it seems my rule is abolished,
My floor is nothing but flaw.

Scrubbed Fresh I stare straight,
Not realizing I lay where they urinate.
Muddy shoes stain my face.
The selfish don’t seem to care,
That a poor man will clean this place,
When they won’t even be breathing this air.

Scrubbed Fresh is what I used to be,
They were careless and polluted me.
I used to have a shiny top,
It seems that filth was my fate.
And now the janitor is coming to mop.
Scrubbed Fresh I sit and wait.

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Powd3er said...
Mar. 4, 2010 at 11:14 am
This poem has great flow and insight.
I really enjoyed it.
Lovely poem darling =]
-Please check out the works that I have posted on here it would be highly appreciated and I think you would greatly enjoy them, Thankk youz-
XxIll tell you Im an orphan after you meet myy familyXx
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