You get up in the
Morning,

Regular day.

Cereal, a Pop Tart,

A half-asleep mind.




You plow your path

Through no

Obstacles,

But make it hard

Anyway,

Because you feel

That Life's pitching arm

Is growing weak.




To school—

Time to "learn",

Mostly about

The follies of others,

And how God,


When creating Man,


Was feeling way


Too optimistic.






Back home—

Now it is time

To finish homework.

Digest as little as you can,

As fast as you can,

So there's still

Time in your

Life

And space in your

Mind

For important things,

Like American Idol.




And then,

You stumble off

To bed,

Turn the lights

Out,

Your mind still

Half-asleep.




In the dark,

Your lips curve

Into a satisfied smile,




For you are

Extra/ordinary.