A Very Short Story Poem by Midnight Clarity

Morning was her favorite time of day. Night was just a space between sunset and sunrise where people snored and snorted and sometimes got pregnant.

Morning was the time of singing birds, gleaming clouds and steaming cups of fragrant coffee just waiting to welcome doughnuts for their dunk. At the thought of coffee she stretched a long lazy luxurious stretch, rolled over, fell out of bed and broke her neck.

When you die you don't get coffee and doughnuts. How sad.