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.