Piling away cellophane and plastic
Wrapped up neatly in stretchy elastic
Indentations jagging through the soft skin
All of its contents deemed worthless within
Like breathing- no, eating and digesting
This is a process that keeps refreshing
Empty space rearranges, ebbs, and flows
Someone not looking should know where it goes
Thus, like spongy bones culled from a carcass
The waste is bare, vulnerable, harmless
Save for the stench of food, rotten and mashed
At last, it is time to take out the trash