I get up in the morning
For the hope
The possibility
Of this day being better than the last
That this day will bring peace
That this day will being light
Every day i am proven wrong
Every day 2 weeks turns into 8 months,
8 into 9,
9 into another day
Another hour,
Another class,
Another meeting,
Another book,
Another phone,
Another day
Every day I trick myself
Bait myself
Convince myself
Of a reality I know too well to be true,
A reality that will never leave my head
Memories of a better time
What is the sound of my school bell?
I race through mazes of memories to try and recall but I come back empty handed
What is the smell of popcorn burning in broken microwaves?
It used to be so prominent, so often, how could I forget?
What is the feel of thoses plastic chairs?
The ones that scrape the floor, the ones that are too small, the ones that we loved
When I try and tell you what I get up for;
I just don't know
Its just,
Its just another day