Friday, 28 September 2012

Morning poem best

Morning poem

I woke early one morning,
the earth lay cool and still
When suddenly a tiny bird
Perched on my window sill,
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


I stirred beneath the covers
Crept slowly out of bed,
Then gently shut the window
And crushed his fucking head.
I'm not a morning person

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