By RACHELL PAK
She found herself in a bathroom stall,
With no one around
And a pen in her hand,
Her story was written on the beige walls.
The art of her life’s gallery
Had her favorite fruit
And her inner thoughts
On the insignificance of calories.
The scent not much in disguise,
A mix of flatulence
And cheese since 1993,
To see not smell, her wisest advice.
There are imitations and fakes elsewhere,
Have not as much charm
With a smiley face à la carte,
They weren’t made with much care.
But they do tell the story of a different person,
Who was bored with life
Or had too much time,
In a room with toilets and fluorescent lights.