The lines are long, the wait is slow
As we all shuffle to and fro
Emptying pockets, and taking off shoes
Anything to make it through airport security blues
The conveyor belt hums, the x-ray beams
As our belongings disappear as if in dreams
Nail clippers and corkscrews, a flash of metal
Confiscated and taken, lost to their new settle
But where do they go, these forbidden tools?
These items deemed too risky for us simple fools
They end up in government auctions, it seems
Sold in bulk, in strange and varied schemes
Foldable shovels, flashlights, and cigar cutters too
All taken from us, and sold without a clue
Pocket knives in lots of a hundred, or by brand
An assortment of items, seized and banned
And what of lost luggage, left behind and forgotten?
Unclaimed and unloved, its fate is now begotten
Resold, repurposed, or recycled, the bags find new life
Their contents sorted through, causing some strife
So next time you travel, and through security you pass
Remember the items taken, and where they end up at last
Perhaps in a government auction, up for sale in bulk
Or in a pile of lost luggage, left behind in a hulk
Airport security, a necessary evil it seems
Taking our belongings, and selling them in schemes
But as long as we stay safe, and make it through the gate
We\'ll accept the inconvenience, and accept our fate. (\"Lost Baggage\") by Courtney Weaver Jr.