I am sure the neighbours appreciate me as a poet

 

I am sure the neighbours appreciate me as a poet

While the neighbours sleep like babies,

I am here breaking the furniture

I am here singing at the top of my voice,

and I don’t even apologise in the morning.

While the neighbours suspect nothing,

I am busy plucking all their roses,

I am busy planting meat-eaters in their place

and strange little bushes that don’t have a name.

While the neighbours keep going on about

what an angel I am,

I am plotting bloody murder on their porch,

I am dancing in the moonlight with a pair of tigers,

and still I don’t say I’m sorry.

GloPoWriMo Day 3