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Toilet Bowl

I am grounded here waiting to help you.
there is water in me;
people say that is a symbol of life,
I say it helps get the job done.

sometimes you approach me
running, sometimes waddling,
sometimes a mixture of the two.

It’s considered “polite” to close my lid
after you know…
but I don’t understand why my white
porcelain face is considered ugly enough to
hide.

you sit on me, knowing, expecting me to
hold you up and make you comfortable;
sometimes you jump up again because
of a cold chill that is unexpected.

I can recall times that you have
slept with me
on the cold Black and white tiled floor,
raising your head every so often to
relieve yourself
of pains deep inside you.

I am grounded here waiting to help you.



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