Curtains

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I ask: Who opens and closes their own curtain of life with absolute peace of mind? My curtains may be closed for a few days, As I write a sad sonnet. One that tells of a bird with a spatula for a left wing. Next week my curtain may be open at dawn. Whipping out my spatula to make French crepes. To welcome the police that I am about to call. My pills ran out. It's my sonnet. It's my spatula. You don't see me burning down your curtains because I can't deal with your mood. Create your own peace, sew your own curtain of style, and take your own pill. Ahh, Jessica, you twitchy rascal. It has been a pleasure. CHAU!