Lament for the Trash Bag

I don't write poetry very often, but when I do, I try not to take it too seriously.  This poem, which I wrote over a year ago, was intended to be silly--in contrast to quite a bit of deep and depressing poetry I heard in a creative writing class at the time.  Nonetheless, even a poem as silly as this can be thoroughly analyzed.  Whether you read it for fun or take an hour to examine each word, I hope you enjoy the break from the lengthy prose I have posted over the weeks.  Of course, I hope you also enjoy the poem itself.

 

I chucked a trash bag into the trash can,

And found myself

Ashamed,

As though I had shattered a moral code.

The trash bag, 

For whom my heart now pouts,

Had procured such an unpromising tear

As to place himself on a podium of uselessness.

Down he went, into the dark,

Mocked—

Surrounded by a new bag

That had pilfered his desired station.

I turned away, showering congratulations on

Myself

For eyeing the sharp tear that had

Misshapen the trash bag.

But then “Shoot!” I shouted.

For I realized,

Had I shown mercy and love,

I’d have mended the tear and given the trash bag a chance.

He, repaired and perfected,

Would have pranced to his station,

And with newfound inspiration,

Thrived for his predetermined purpose.

Instead I left the shamed trash bag

In the dank dark of the smelly trash can,

Shut off forever from bearing trash,

And shunned by an imperfect purchaser.

So I returned to my room, for I thought,

“It's just a trash bag;”

But in this I erred, for a trash bag without trash

Is just a bag.