As I lay face-up upon my bed, strange thoughts roared inside my head.
The ceiling light's cover seemed like a pearl, causing my synapses to swiftly swirl.
Was I really in a house, pray tell? Or was I encased in a huge oyster shell?
Was I a man such as you might greet, or was I a great big hunk of oyster meat?
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No thanks. Go elsewhere if you can't be poetic about your bothersomeness.
The aliens would have a lot of fun with you, Bri. Now I know why I don't like oysters. Enjoyable write!
A harmless fun! I think horror movies may induce bizarre dreams.
The comment I was about to leave will instead become my next poem 'Bri Edwards Eaten by Aliens'. Thank you. This was very entertaining.
A beautiful poem embellished with great imagination and crystalline images. A well crafted write. Top Marks and to my favorites.