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Morning



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 lowered the window
And crushed his fucking head.



I'm not a morning person.



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