Six Thirty

Six thirty—

Alarm rings;

I text my boyfriend I love him,

And go back to bed.

 

Six forty five—

Alarm rings again;

And I get out of bed.

 

Thus begins every school day,

Preparing for my daily 8 a.m.

It’s hard to think of why I do it

When I’m awake before the sun

 

I do it anyway,

Rising like the sun.

Slowly in the mornings

But soon overhead—

 

Maybe one day I’ll rise that high!

My ambitions taking me above the monotony—

Wings crafted with creativity and passion!

Art rivalling that of Daedalus—

 

—And if I fall,

Will it all be worth it?

As the wind rushes past my wings—

Having flown for the first time.

This poem is about: 
Me

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