Oh and when those feathers wilt!
So proud and plumed and colourful
The sting of readjustment back to the normal swing.
The catalogue of wasted time becomes a symphony of errors
A squawking chorus ridiculously out of tune.
And you're awake. Again.
This is the feckless rage
The fumbling fool's latest bumble
And here we are, alas, rehearsing every scene that's been before.
It is tired and so are you.
There is no lyric for the tune just droning annoyances.
The petty slam and the unnoticed rant.
The unreasoned sulky ego
The id is laughing, the naughty school kid in the queue
I'm seething.
And this is typical.