I’m glad it’s trash day
The bin is full
Of what I once guarded
Like a pulse
The truck arrives
No pause
No mercy
Just metal taking metal
I stand in the cold
With the last scrap of you
Weightless in my hand
Heavy everywhere else
I’m glad it’s trash day
At least something
Still knows
How to leave
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Author:
Anthony Hanible (
Offline) - Published: February 19th, 2026 05:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
- Users favorite of this poem: Anthony Hanible
Offline)
Comments1
If not the person at least memories of past and pain that needs to be discarded on a regular basis to keep the house clean. Nicely written
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