A carefully curated smile hides away

The ravages of a war no longer at bay


A place of peace and reflection

Supposedly a cocoon of love and protection

Is the domain of the Cotton Wool Monster

With cotton wool hands, it is your master

Another day, another morning

You hope to God your spirits will be soaring

But then the time reaches its teens

To complete your plans, you have no means

A humming dullness in your chest

A throbbing head gives you no rest

An open fridge, an open door

Are your battles, there is no more

Piles of life scowl at your sloth

Your being devoured by a moth

Look outside, I should go out

But the Cotton Wool Monster fills you with doubt

Progress hollers

But it’s no solace


Look, its time for bed again

The Cotton Wool Monster wins the game


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