Pet Peeve
Last night, I dreamt I was a parrot.
I spent my days in a cage and my nights in a rage
And all I could ever say was what I’d been told.
Every few weeks, when there was company,
and the doors and windows were surely locked
The man would let me out
And I’d fly into the kitchen cabinets and those hard-to-reach places,
and sing the words he’d never been proud of
Until I was in his grasp
and in my cage again.
What a nightmare.
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