The golden glory.

The morning flurry.

The rooster chirr.

The cool breeze.

 

I wake up grump,

with bad hung over.

The steamy shower,

hundredth coffee cup.

 

I still shake.

I still sway.

Faint memories,

of all boozed up.

 

I hate feeling of work,

still on party mode.

Lets re-live the night,

acting like a jerk.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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One thought on “Hangover

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