After happy hour I sit on my couch
It is tiny, barely fits one
But it is comfy, not my body though
I have a stomach ache.
Must be a rebellion over there
for all I had consumed. The drinks were of all colors
they gave me a certain hype, a happy feeling
I have a headache, must be all the sounds.
There was loud music, or maybe that was me
screaming at the top of my lungs, I was happy an hour
But I don’t recall much, only thing am sure of, is my headache
My legs are killing me, I can barely stand
I was wearing six inch heels
and dancing on stripper poles.
am a bit on the heavy weight,
so my legs are practically in sleep mode
After happy hour, all I have are memories.
They are good, great in fact, they keep me happy
But there is also pain, like they say, every worthy thing
Comes with some sacrifice, and for my happy hour
I sacrifice my head, stomach, and joints with no regret