The Washing Machine Poem by Marwa Rakha

A washing machine I am;
come touch my buttons
and see me spinning.

Shirts, pants, undies, and more;
get that sock off the floor;
you are all but one when the night befalls.

Big or small;
size doesn't matter;
it always has a stain.

Colored or plain;
they always complain
about the suds or the care.

Watch my door open
only to close again;
let me wash away your pain.

Who cares who's inside;
I will be empty again.
Are you leaving while I am spinning?

I am the washing machine.
I am full! I am loaded!
I have had it!

Let me tell you this and mark my words;
Life revolves around me,
it only stops when I cease to be!