Every morning it wakes up, and gives a yawn.
After it struggles out of bed, it prepares its food for the day, and puts on clothes.
It arrives at the bus stop, gets on, and sits down.
And as the dreary bus begins trudging forward,
Many screams and sounds of scuffles fill the ears of this odd little thing,
Too tired to give a response it idly listens.
In the past, it would fight the voices,
It would make them stop, but now, it doesn’t even try.
As the bus comes to a stop, it gets out and walks to the door,
But it pauses before entering.
The many expectations that await behind those doors will soon come into effect,
So it takes a breath and creates an outward image of perfection.
It opens the door, and accepts its new burdens.
To all the others it is diligent, talented, inspired, brilliant…
But in reality, it’s just going through the motions.
It won’t remember what it learns…
At the end of the day it crawls into bed and forgets everything,
Hoping that it will find an answer in its dreams,
But there is no answer…
When it awakes the next day it knows nothing more about the secrets of this world,
And you know nothing more about it...