A roll that owns its toll
So set is nothing left to regret
As you wipe a rear -end with it and
It shows its time well spent
So accumulates in your hand
The layers of landing the white paper
Folded neatly to complete a duty
So rests the time with the tables
As you reason on a pot
Thinking of wiping that spot
That brought such disaster in the moment
What was once urgent doesn’t
Seem so dramatic
So is the erratic nature of a need.
Toilet paper: you cant live without it.