My Bedroom Window

Here's a poem I wrote about my window in my bedroom. It sucks. My window is a huge bay window. And it faces East... Therefore, the sun comes in every morning. And it sucks. I can't sleep past 10:00 AM. I hate it. Everything in this poem is 100% true.

In my room there is a door, Which leads to all my clothes, Because of all the crap in there, That door will never close, In my room there are four walls, All of them are yellow, They were blue a few years ago, But I’m now a cheery fellow, On one wall a window sets, To let the light shine in, Every morning the sun peaks through, Right at 8 AM, This window is a constant source, Of my utter scorn, I put a blanket up one day, But then it was torn, It was torn right off the wall, By my mother dear, Who would not listen to my plea, To my troubles turned deaf-ear, My mother could not comprehend My trouble with the sun, It’s like an oven in my room, With nowhere left to run, At night it is a different tale, One I like much more, I love the darkness of the night, It settles in the score, The problem is the streetlight, That rests outside the pane, This window is a great feature, If you are insane, Why anyone would want that big A window in their room Is quite beyond this troubled man, And I must assume The builders are sadistic And the architects take glee, They love to interrupt my sleep, And make a fool of me, But this isn’t over, No, it’s far from so, I’m moving one town over soon, And so I will just go, I hope the windows at college, Offer more a block than this, I’d like to sleep at least til’ 10:00, Wake up and take a piss.