Why get up from my warm bed
to stand in a cold bathroom,
to walk outside and stand on a cold bus stop,
or walk through the cold to get to a car that may not have heated up because I was running late,
and so I make the cold journey to the inside of the school that’s probably cold, too,
and the hallways are filled with slippery, muddy snow from students that don’t know how to wipe their shoes.
I stand at my locker and receive my supplies and books from its cold metal
to carry them and break my arms and legs trying to run to and from class, up and down stairs,
with only five minutes to spare.
Poetry Terms Demonstrated:
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