For some,
There's no escaping the daily grind;
Only the inexplicable tortures which plague the mind.
For others, however, there's a blooming gap
Which presents itself
In the form
Of a nap.

How simple a pleasure;
An enchanting endeavor.
Those words do not rhyme,
Though I do not care,
For I've just awoken and tainted the air;
Clouds of tobacco smoke poison my lair.

A dream lingers briefly so I jot it down.
Angels from heaven appear -
Oh the sound!
An orchestra plays something I've never heard;
It's hauntingly beautiful -
Mildly absurd.

A box pushed its way to the surface through dirt
And inside the box is a sparrow;
It's hurt.
I do what I can
To help it to heal,
But a cat comes along and decides it's a meal.

"I know you're a cat, and that's what cats do,
But wouldn't you say you were just a bit rude?"

It replies in baritone, southerly voice,
"I am what I am and I hadn't a choice.
I'm driven by instinct,
As you may not be;
However, these feathers
Taste curiously..."

The cat then exploded;
Its innards now out.
That bird was a bomb,
I haven't a doubt.