Guten Morgen

She loves her job But has a strange way of showing her affection More than me, I asked ... What is your name again She replied A stranger, let us leave it at that She cries one evening It is too much But I remember The same day, I made her Smile If I was her At that moment it seems I'd go to her every morning I wouldn't miss a shift Her first smile had enchanted me It's an embarrassing emotion I hope she has them too It is vanity But her voice I'd rather everyday The little Workaholic 's hands have touched my soul.

I see a bird every morning he is one a solid routine he has I know not of his name I know not if he possesses one but what I know of is his morning routine Apparently he has taken upon himself To remind me everyday he is alive On another day Wake up On another Now you see me On... Now you don't He's sort of A shy bird But I might be mistaken Though what I know Is his hate for photographs He is a sort of a star among the birds To my knowledge No photos In a fit he seems to say But what do I know I am but a guy With a window.

I can't ignore it anymore, I feel empty I feel... I feel warm I feel cold too A wave of emotions I know this feeling But still I choose to ignore I count myself a lucky man But am I really, "Dream and be delusional!" I try, I've tried it more than once Finally I am proof They were not talking to me I know but still I listen I call it a hobby but really I am a lucky man I have said that I do not need them Still though I do Why you ask I am an observer Not the... Not among the characters Of the story Right, I have none But to observe.

A day maybe three I was away The dishes They lay on my cabinet Unwashed though they were I, the owner would later arrive To find that my dishes Had brought home some Strangers I am a dutiful man The dishes are now clean But still the strangers Have not gone home even though to my knowledge The feast ended yesterday I am pestered I am bothered by them They have a lot of demands I believe I have told them To go away Instead families have been raised I feel no more The owner I might be trespassing.

They love confineth me Coz thou trustest beloved Deep inside lack if feeling, mostly though Only love would run its course Trickling through my veins I seemed possessed Driven by anxiety N unholy desires My mind in awe for my feminine partner Affection slipped away atime A lot ago In and with utmost drive I tred along the lyrics A hymn so common To the wall I press her Her whole woman Awaits my touch I haste, a bit rough I unravel her feminine weakness So much I press on Her tender skin, the weak spot N the erect duo on her chest That she moans Yet still I'm encouraged Such unmercy I have outpoured

About my life as an intro How I became too mature for my age. I can't enjoy things anymore, I was too curious to know. Now I know too much. Knowledge has caused me sorrow. Nihilism has crossed my path several times, but still I have found glimpses of meaning in my life. Still I struggle to enjoy it. I feel terrible when I find myself enjoying life. Is it because I don't know how to or I haven't found my own way to enjoy it. I now am a lover of gloom more than I was with happiness. I took that one text too literally. I call myself a hypocrite because I find myself judging people for the wrongs I myself have done. A never ending cycle of self hate. I see myself in others. Sometimes I try to brush it off.... I am human Afterall. Lions eat meat, the cow has her grass. Man can't be unique. But I still find man, not unique; yet Again in a complex manner. I tried to understand man, I thought I'd finally understand myself. I couldn't, I saw this in itself a vanity not worth the pursuit.

But I must say, I am a bird used to a cage The cage it seems is always open, But the owner was nice enough To offer food Water even a cage, a nice one Surely other birds, Live in in worse cages, than I do I have it better I must give thanks to my owner For conditioning me to live in a cage, I birds are born to fly I know better, I am a bird myself My owner says the outside world is Dangerous, full of humans and animals that Eat birds like me, A worls without the warmth of my cage A world without food provided, A world wher water is dirty and available In abundance in some places but scarce on other places. My owner says I'm lucky, I am a wealthy bird, Even my owner has, I seems decided, that as I am right now, am a bird of wealth, But a friend said bids don't need wealth, He's gone now though, I guess he didn't know any better

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