The Grind

Wake up and see,

ceiling walls, they look back at me,

hear the empty ring of silence,

bones aching and muscles drained,

get up, this is the grind.

Walking to a place so harsh and fierce,

breaking my body until it is loud and clear,

my blood, my sweat, my pride, my tears,

it's far from over,

don't give up, this is the grind.

Tired and fatigued, my body is beaten,

from 5 AM to the morning peakin',

hustle and hustle grab pencils and paper,

lecture over lecture, my eyes getting heavy,

don't give in, this is the grind.

Scribble and scratch, whatever is needed,

head to the place so fierce you are depleted,

little strength to no energy, 

the complaints in your mind, they are the enemy,

shut them out, this is the grind.

Another session of practice, it's done, it's over,

back to the room, lie down for a second,

get up and finish what the lectures had told you,

keep going and going until my mind is numb,

now my body and mind have both equally succumb,

to the work from five to eight at night,

eat up, sleep, rest up for the next fight.

Morning darkness will be the next time,

you wake up to the ceiling and get up, 

because it's the grind.