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
Should have created
Man
With a lifetime warranty,
Because we’re perfectly
Broken.
I wonder if he ever
Regrets it.

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.