Whips out a cigarette and slits her wrist letting the blood flow into the drain
It is rather meticulously thought about by her maybe, or it was logic
But such an end in a public restroom is but such an inconvenience
The manager being called upon is visibly upset, harrowed by this
If his family wasn't enough trouble, he hid himself in work
Now this happens to bring more unease, poor airport staff as always
The passengers are not thoughtful, they just never give them any ease
The janitor is annoyed, seething in fury over the drunk at gate 12
He has to clean up the mess some random middle aged man caused
These passengers are only adding to the unwarranted woes here
I thought the airport in my head would at least be a peaceful home
Then as they somehow gather everyone, queued to boarding
I am happy that there shall be some restfulness at last
Yet the passengers unleash sordid torment and lashful words
They have to leave by this flight, yet they just seem to be indefinitely grounded
The AI version
In my mind's airport, the wanderer's coat is hung
In the lounge washroom, her cigarette is lit, her wrist is cut
The blood flows down the drain, a scene of inconvenience
For the staff, who must deal with this and all the passengers' nonsense
The manager is upset, the janitor seething with rage
Over the messes that these travelers seem to create
They are grounded, stuck in this airport of the mind
Where peace and rest are hard to find
But still they board the plane, with sordid words and bitter complaints
Leaving behind the chaos, the blood, and the stains
I hope that wherever they are going, they find some peace at last
And leave the airport of the mind, with all its troubles in the past.
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