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Boring Person
I’m so tired,
of being the same boring person everyday.
I wake up in daze,
on autopilot
barely ready to start the day.
I rush through necessities,
and throw on what seems ok.
Blinking to stay awake,
but eyes heavier than 10,000 grains,
even my body has overused this routine.
I slump from class to class,
hearing the white noise from teachers
and classmates.
Sleeping long or short
no matter what,
still too tired to sort.
Feeling a bit ashamed,
but it's probably just myself to blame.
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This poem talks a lot about me, and my experiences with the stress of routine and early mornings. My process on a hard day, and how I usually get through them.