Breaking Not News

It's really not news.

At four in the morning, you shook me awake,

I rubbed my eyes, my peace you did take.

I groaned in confusion, still lost in a dream,

“What’s going on?” I asked, as you stifled a scream.

“Is everyone okay? Did something go wrong?”

I sat up in bed, trying to stay strong.

You bit your lip, hesitating to share,

And I braced myself for the news you would bear.

You paced by the bed, glued to your phone,

I went for a piss I couldn't postpone.

When I returned, you were still in bits,

All because a celebrity couple had called it quits.

"Are you for real, that's not even news!

Six minutes of sleep you made me lose.

I was having a lovely dream before you woke me,

Playing Snakes & Ladders with Elvis Presley."

You picked up a lamp, flung it at my face,

Then you left the room, and packed a suitcase.

Back to sleep I went, without further delay,

Now I was playing chess with Fury and Molly Mae.