(Note: I kinda forgot about this poem. I wanted to post this back in October. Anyways, here it is, folks.)
*to the tune of "Happy Birthday"*
Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday, dear me-e
Happy birthday to me.
I'm singing this song
A month in advance
In hopes that it brings us
The US a chance.
I'm sick of the war
It's friend against friend
But if they attack me
I'll fight to the end.
The streets are a mess
They won't clean it up
If they don't do something
I'm escape to Europe.
But Europe is worse
So maybe I won't
I'm angry and frightened
If you're fretting, please don't.
But one thing I need
It has a good name
It's called a "huntin' rifle"
And I'll shoot me some game.
I'll live in the woods
And sleep in a tent
Until they pursue me
With the drones they have sent.
Then buildings explode
It looks like Pompeii
This poem got dark
I have nothing to say.
I sound like a child
But really what's new
They still act like children
On a trip to the zoo.
Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday dear me-e...
Happy birthday to me.
(And many mooooore)
*blows out candles aggressively
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YOU ARE READING
2:00 AM
PoetryPoems I post at 2:00 in the morning. These are the exact opposite of my pretty "Daydream" poems, so hold onto your belt buckles. This is gonna get whacky.
