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Rated: E · Poetry · Political · #978579
A poitical commentary about useless government planning.
The alarm beeps once, then again and again
sustaining itself, just like original sin
i look at the screen, lit up iridesent
5:55 the numbers ring in my head so incessant
Fall back for a second, brace my hand on the bed
need a few moments to collect my head
this short moment of confusion reminds me i'm not dead
i reweave my thoughts delicately, as if with silk thread
look back at the clock, it's now almost 6
how fast time moves during these morning politics
and how political it is before first view of the sun
so much hustle and bustle, but nothing gets done
i step into the shower, turn the knob to full
the water hits my face, quickly breaks my lull
as it runs down my shoulders, then onto my back
now i can truly think, interruptions i do lack
fully aware of my feelings, all my trouble seems to shrink
this is a time when i can really just think
no longer fatigued from my slumber, my mind functions OK
and my thoughts not yet corrupted by events of my day
it's like i'm reborn every 24 hours
an insightful new child inside my own shower
a burst of new ideas on how to change and grow
i can truly make a difference, this i know
i'll set up all my problems and knock them down in a row
ready to get started so i turn off the flow
but something strange happens when i step out on the floor
all my ideas an ambitions slowly fly out the door
i try to hurry and get ready before they all leave
throw on some clothes and throw my bag over my shoulder with a heave.
rushing now, i make my way to class
before i drop my thoughts and they shatter like glass
i rush to the table to inform my peers
but it would seem all my ideas had escaped through my ears
the loss of such a thing almost brings me to tears
but no time for that no because class time nears
as i sit and listen idly to the lesson vile and rotten
the account of my ideas is now thoroughly forgotten
there is no need for regret, ecspecially none for sorrow
the ideas will come again upon the morn of tomorrow
and so this shall repeat as long as the clock ticks
it's all a simple matter of morning politics
© Copyright 2005 Gray Halliway (jdwannamaker at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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