Poem: The Mind is a Washing Machine

by Owen Chow Wan Hei 4B

The Mind is a Washing Machine

The mind is a washing machine,

It goes round and round,

It never stops,

Piles of laundry line up, waiting...

Once it's clogged,.

the white clothes turn black.

The detergent runs out.

The metal rusts.

And the washing machine will never be the same again.