298 -Postbox Envy

Poem number 298
.
Postbox Envy
.
I wish I was a postbox
Red and five feet high
Standing there through rain and sun
Beneath the open sky
I’d eat old ladies’ letters
Chew them up into a mush
Then spit them on the pavement
For old ladies’ shoes to crush
I’d bite through people’s water bills
Their forms from DSS
I’d rip apart their postcards
And I’d really make a mess
But sadly I’m no postbox –
I’m a person, boo hoo hoo
And I’m not a lovely fiery red
I’m simply, deeply, blue.

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