Poetry Slam: MONDAY RUNWAY

Consciousness rises to hear the sounds of bird chatter,
Sun beaming thru the room like it couldn’t be much prouder.

King size bed filled with the scent of winning,
No drugs, no women, none of the usual sinning.

Arms stretched to the sky to give hug to heaven,
First day of the week of the typical seven.

I’m ready when the floor and my feet meet,
To elevate existence in life to a new peak.

BIZZY JIMME

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