Once I've reached my expiration date
And am no longer serviceable
Deposit me in a hefty bag,
The kind with the drawstrings
Drag me out to the street
For some curbside pickup
Maybe I can be recycled
Or used for fertilizer
I won’t be offended
If my carcass is thrown out
Because I’ll be very dead
Which is a much bigger problem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem