Waking up with that familiar sense



Of drowsiness and tiredness wanting to fall back to sleep




The irritating alarm of my mother as she struggles


To make sure we’re up now. Putting on clothes for that new day



Trying to look like I know what I’m doing when I put on



That shirt that doesn’t match those pants. Running out






The door as the clock down to that




Minute when the bus arrives. Hoping for the best




As I ride toward my prison known simply as school





All one can do is hope for the afternoon to com


Till the next day when I experience all over again, My Morning