The sun is up, its light in your view.
You blink your eyes, a polite “hello” to the new.
Wash up, eat breakfast though you don't really care,
A never-ending routine you often forbear.
And now, with an empty stomach, you’ve stepped outside.
People crowd the street, making you wish you could hide.
You lower your head, make yourself small,
Walking fast, hoping to escape it all.
Finally, it's here, the place you go so often.
Imposing, suffocating, it's doors are opened.
You don’t like this place, but still you attend,
With dutiful effort, to it you bend.
Your teachers speak highly, nothing but praise,
They're always ready to lift your name in a phrase.
They call you kind, polite, full of grace,
Find you wise, intelligent, and always in place.
You’re a model student, your parents’ pride,
Charming but lonely, with no one by your side.
Once again, you waste no time,
After class, heading home, punctual and primed.
The key turns, opening the dark, silent hall,
The living room as cold as silent wall.
Despite the routine, it still feels so sly,
A quiet sigh escapes as you walk by.
With slow, hesitant steps, you cross the threshold,
Entering the home you’ve come to loathe, for reasons untold.
