At six o’clock, I stumble out of bed.
The final day of the week, the calendar said.
Under the blinding light I cower
I force myself into the scalding shower.

At six-thirty I eat.
Bite, chew, and repeat.
I devour the Frosted Flakes.
Yet still I don’t wake.

At six-fifty I depart.
My mind says I have to, but there’s regret in my heart.
Off to my duties but still in dreamland
My brain and body still unmanned.

At seven-thirty I am to learn.
Mind half shut, for this class to end I yearn.
But instead I stare at the clock.
Carefully counting the faint tick tocks.

At two-fifteen I wake.
It’s the weekend now, the teenage jailbreak.
The final bell goes, my true alarm rings.
It’s time for the fun the weekend always brings.