Tuesday, November 25, 2014

My Butt Is Freezing Cold

The sun is bright

the sky is blue

the pond is wet

and my butt is cold.

Yeah, maybe the ducks are cool

but all I hear is squaking

slashing up a silent morning.

Yeah the leaves are fun

and crunchable

but all I see are dead tree's.

Mornings are not meant for pretty poems.

They're meant for sleep.

I waited an hour with a freezing butt

all for a bright glare in my face

and still a freezing butt.

Maybe I'm just not feeling it today.

Or maybe I just suck at writing.

Either way

a pretty poem

is not what you'll find on this blog today.

All you get is some pessimistic words

on what should have been beautiful

and a few complaints on how my butt is freezing cold.

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