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Late poem
November 4, 2015
6AM.As I slowly roll out of bed,
and slowly set my feet on
the floor as I stand up I can
barely feel the aIr from the fan blowing
my haIr like a breeze across the ocean.
as I make my way to the bathroom
to get in the shower to start my day
as i step in the burning hot water
my mom tells me to hurry or
your going to be late.
© Anonymous
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