The sun rises, my eyes crack open to see another day.
Words try to flow from a dry mouth, but there is nothing to say.
Shower, shave, open the closet to dress. On the way out, tell Mom bye. But in the process I grab my brown paper bag lunch. Eighteen years have come to pass, yet I still take my seat in the class. But as a child does not understand the discipline of his mother, I can not with these textbooks be merry.