Things could be worse

Well the day could start with a bump to the head

But not quite enough that it fills you with dread

Maybe your ceilings collapsed in a heap

But it leaves the rewards of the stars to reap

Your door could be lost, or the floor or the walls

But now you can listen to the morning bird’s call

Maybe your desk has waddled away, but hey the

Old thing deserves a good day!

The clock could be ticking your hours away

But better late than never, that’s what they say!

The shower runs cold, but good old Jack Frost

He’ll slash the electric and cut down the cost

Your clothes are all small, but the nineties is back

With vintage and retro and the best music tracks

The mirror has cracked but no worry of luck

It’s another seven years of life, so who gives a fuck?

Slipped down the stairs, my arse is red raw

But hey saved me the walk to get out of the door

But wait just a tick, myself I could kick,

For forgetting my boost, the days only roost to jolt me awake

The craving the taste, the itch it’s a bitch

Of sweet syrup sugar of red white delight

And…. To what is behold? A shelf without none?

What in the hell? I swore I had one!

The fridge is rammed; but my coke is all gone!

I’m withered, I’m done

Nothing more than a shadow, to fittingly flutter

Goddamn this day and its inherent stutter!

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