Trickery

Damn you, alarm clock, that was smart of you

to sneakily work your way into my dreams,

disguise yourself as other noises,

so I don't wake up.

Though I don't know why the President droned

in monotone, underwater in a leg museum,

his words lost in the bubbles...

I do know that he could not possibly be there

as a figment of my imagination,

brought about by a loud mechanical bastard 

trying to wake me up.

The End

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