A song for winter

I did not have to iron clothes
Winter, I miss you already
I am not afraid of Pneumonia
but I am, of unemployment

I know not where you come from
They say it’s about revolution
I think you are sadness, frozen
Not in time, but in emotion

Now, as this poem gets gayer by the line
I would just like to say
I am a beast with feathers
My wings, are dirty
So I tread on uphill
As I feel the thrust
Of a penis, in my butt

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