Damn I’m tired, sleeping beauty,
Lend me sleep or please god shoot me.
As I lay my head to sleep,
I pray these kids don’t make a peep.
They’re running ragged jumping, climbing, Sticky fingers, dirty, sliming.
Please sit down and please be quite,
I’m not the law this isn’t a riot.
Please stop fighting, indoor voices,
They said have kids now curse my choices.
Resting infant breathing lightly,
Tucked in bed all soft and tightly.
Aren’t they lovely when they’re sleeping?
Out the bed room I go creeping.
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Author:
John_Bingham (
Offline) - Published: March 24th, 2023 03:18
- Comment from author about the poem: Kids are terrible, smelly, loud, annoying little creatures that for some reason become the most important things in your life.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
subtly beautiful, thanks for sharing
(inking, witness to your blessings
through that blurry, reality
mirages, curating a blinked past
of weary straining lungs
convoluting, life's most simple
immeasurably majestic
treasured memento's, in the making)
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