Transforming Poetry

A week of people

The First one hated waking up,
Clinging tightly to a cup
Of coffee stronger than required,
With sugar to chase away the tired.
They shuffled dully on their way,
Wishing for another day,
Bringing others down with them,
Wondering where they had come from.

The Second, cheerier than the First,
But still pretty close to worst.
Seemingly with no real purpose,
Simply there to fill gaps, worthless.
Full of yawns and meaningless chats,
Nothing happens, no deadly combat.
They pass by unnoticed and unloved,
No one cares when they are gone.

The Third has rather odd emotions,
Each day just going through the motions.
They say that once you're friends with them,
The road after is filled with gems.
They are the passage to better people,
Leading somewhere magical, peaceful,
For after them comes greater treasure,
Another filled with tremendous pleasure.

The Fourth person is filled with hope,
And had a secret of how to cope
With all the other jerks before,
Optimism, knowledge helps for sure.
For they know the time will come,
When others take away the numb
Feelings caused by the first three,
Calming you down, setting you free.

The Fifth person appears at last,
The one all smiles and moving fast,
The one that dances, laughs and more.
You forget what all the pain was for,
You join them quickly, glad for change,
To stop feeling numb, bored and grey.
They lead you off, promising fun,
You soon forget about the First one.

Then Six appears, even better than Five,
Telling you everything's gunna be fine,
Have another drink, come and dance,
Its been so long since you had a chance.
We'll do what we want and never look  back,
More, more, until you lose track.
Enjoy the moments spent with Sixth,
Soon they'll feel like just a myth.

The Seventh, best described as bipolar,
They wake up fine, totally sober,
They spend all day, lazing around,
Happy, content, making no sound.
They enjoy the quiet and comfort of home,
But before long they land in their zone,
Of negative thoughts and worries of future,
Of how to face First and deal with their stupor.

Together, the seven would often fight,
They'd quarrel and struggle with all their might.
But through all the anger, tears and confusion,
They often found rhythm, inclusion,
They accepted their ways and all they did,
The good or bad, nothing they hid.
As if they belonged there with each other,
A group of friends, sisters, brothers.