Ode To The Lump of Bird Poop on my car Door Handle

This dawn is in ruins
O lump of fecal deposit plummeting from heavens
Why must thou fall upon my handle
Why must thou stab at my form with such passion

The day beginning like the rose
Rising with the sun in morning
Basking in the warm comfort of dew
Fully satisfied and content

Why am I now forsaken?
What form of villainy is this
That dost spray my handle
Searing a grave insult into my flesh.

This dollop of foul evil is truly the devils work
The Bird from whence it came merely a servant of Bezel bum.
I fear as though I must answer for some wickedness before me
By smearing my extremities with its fantastic stench.

Why for any reason could some raindrop
Not guide its way down from a fair and forgiving cloud
Upon this handle
To spare my embarrassment

For now upon my hand is pure evil
It cannot be washed with water or lye
This paste is a reminder of my sin
To forget it would only lead to a further wrath.

So I turn to the sky above and smile
The powers above smile back as if to say
Gotcha bitch
This dawn is in ruins
And so am I.