Occupied
I wonder what part of the plane I am
Turbine, wing, cabin?
No, if I were to relate to one
I’d be the lavatory
People come and go in my life
They enter and relieve their burdens
And I take them in
I offer solitude and sanctuary
They wash and leave refreshed
I’ve been used again, but I don’t mind
Because when not in use I am left empty
Except if they forget to flush…
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