The Great Pillow Escape
At night, I swear my bed’s alive,
it waits for darkness to arrive.
Because once I sleep, without a doubt,
the pillows start sneaking out.
I place them neatly, two by two,
like normal pillows always do.
But when I wake, it’s clear to see
they’ve run away from under me.
One is hiding near my feet,
one has vanished down the sheet.
One is halfway off the bed,
like it just gave up and fled.
The blanket twists into a rope,
my bedsheet folds with zero hope.
And somehow, every single night,
my mattress wins the pillow fight.
Then morning comes, the battle starts—
I rebuild the bed in broken parts.
I tuck, I fold, I smooth, I press...
and five seconds later? It’s a mess.
Making beds is heroic pain—
a daily fight I can’t explain.
But still I try, though it’s absurd...
because my pillow is a stubborn bird.
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