Early Bird
The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.
The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.
A poem for you
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.
I’m not a morning person.