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Jan 2015
I woke up in an ear-bleeding silence
My alarm clock froze on my bedside table

As I shove off my blanket of me,
The sun hasn’t sneaked in the windows yet

So I crawled out of bed
And headed to my room’s glass square hole

Rubbing my eyes, I slowly pulled the curtains,
Only to find out what my eyes couldn’t swallow

It’s not orange clouds in a purple sky that I saw
Instead, a tiny light oozing from the surface of dim Adam’s ale

It’s not fowls that crept among the winds
But hundreds of sea beasts paddling ways in the water

I was dumbfounded by the sight
That I almost fall over

Gently, I tapped the glass window
And to my surprise, it started to crack

And the liquid came flooding into my room,
So I tried to open my eyes and it was over.
Peter Simon
Written by
Peter Simon
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