Wish us luck. A little chatgpt fun for a birthday poem
It’s my birthday in the Hill Country,
eighty degrees and hot as sin—
I’m sweatin’ in this deer blind
prayin’ SOMETHIN’ wild walks in.
Every twig snap got me jumpin’,
heart racin’ like I’m huntin’ fame—
but it’s always some dang critter
playin’ games with my last brain.
A hog strolls by—we’ll drop it—
but Lord, I want a deer tonight…
even though I’m in this blind
lookin’ feral, snackin’, half-delight.
I'm whisperin’ prayers and cussin’,
chaotic, spicy, borderline rude—
Jesus said, “Girl, calm down…
and stop rattlin’ that bag of food.”
Still sittin’ in this sweatbox,
hopin’ chaos turns sincere—
’cause SOMETHIN’S gonna show up soon…
and birthday girl ain’t leavin’ empty-handed, dear.