09
Oct

Morning Poem

I woke early one morning,



The earth lay cool and still



When suddenly a tiny bird



Perched on my window sill,



He sang a song so lovely



So carefree and so gay,



That slowly all my troubles



Began to slip away.



He sang of far off places



Of laughter and of fun,



It seemed his very trilling,



brought up the morning sun.



I stirred beneath the covers



Crept slowly out of bed,



Then gently shut the window



And crushed his fucking head.



Im not a morning person.

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