In halls of school where whispers blend,
Her gaze does wander, thoughts descend,
To places far from textbook lines,
Where fantasy and mischief twine.
Her friends and teachers, all can see,
The brilliance she could bring to be,
Yet every day, the same refrain,
Excuses born from fleeting pain.
For life has shaped her tender core,
With moments hard to just ignore,
A soft heart bruised by fate's cruel hand,
Now finds escape in dreamland.
Her parents sigh, her peers lament,
They see the spark, the talent spent,
But in her eyes, a flicker lies,
Of strength beneath the lazy guise.
Dear girl, with heart so soft,
so cold, Your future waits, a story told,
In pages blank, yet to be penned,
With endings only you can bend.
No evil hearts are born in light,
But forged through battles out of sight,
And you, though lazy, hold the grace,
To turn and meet your own true face.
Take up the pen, the book, the will,
Let quiet hope your spirit fill,
For every step you choose to take,
Can mend the path, and bridges make.
Believe in self, let shadows part,
For in your depth, a fearless heart,
You have the power, strength to claim,
To rise above, to stake your name.
So face the work, let dreams inspire,
Fan the flames of your desire,
Become the student, scholar, star,
Embrace the person who you are.
The world awaits, with breath held tight,
For you to step into the light,
A journey tough, but oh so grand,
To hold your fate within your hand.
YOU ARE READING
NO I'll Never Call Myself A "MOROSE".
PoetryTo everyone who are lazy but yearns and want to live their life as they dreamt but still their laziness never let them to do so........
