You can smell the rot <br />long before The robotic <br />Carrier of rubbish halts <br />Outside your sleepy home. <br />Coming in through your window <br />Is the tired operated groan, <br />Of the crushing and the mushing <br />Of the leftover waste, <br />Your tastebuds never got to taste. <br /> <br />Every Friday they come, <br />Usually just as the sun <br />Creeps through the clouds. <br />Usually I greet them with an akward <br />Thankful embarrased smile. <br />Half retching as the rotten bile <br />Seeps through the black bags. <br /> <br />The forgotten force, <br />Who no one ever aspires to be, <br />Yet without these very men, <br />How could we walk the streets <br />without drowing in a sea <br />Of rotting leftover luxury.<br /><br />Not Long Left<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/they-clean-the-streets-whilst-the-people-sleep/
