Waking Up

I once thought,

being asleep was a nice thing.

I could dream,

stay afloat in a world

of my own,

my eyes and ears closed

to what I only

liked to hear and observe.

But I started to

notice glitches in my

little world,

like when the

radiant blue sky soon turned

into a gloomy backdrop.

Other shadowy figures would

follow, turning my

vibrant fantasy into a

murky nightmare,

twisting the colors until

only a grimy residue

of misery remained.


Nothing was left for me

in this void;

I fall awake into a

world that never would of

welcomed me in

my woke state of mind.


Those dim colors still

remain, soiling the

environment around me

with bouts of rage,

ignorance, and


but I can now

wade through the troubles,

always extending my hand

to those who need a

little help waking


This poem is about: 
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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