Tranquil Mornings

The low sounds of the blowing wind seeping through my slightly cracked window.

The scratching of my dog’s nails outside of my door so I can let him in.

The sound of my alarm going off every ten minutes.

The thoughts going through my mind about what could possibly happen that day, or what happened the night before.

 

I suppose waking up every morning has become less of a struggle and more of an appreciation.

I do not cry anymore.

I do not fake being sick anymore.

I do not purposely sleep in anymore.

I watch the sun rise and think of myself as the sun rising up and brightening someone’s day.

 

I wake up every morning knowing that I am a human being with goals and aspirations and thoughts that matter.

I wake up every morning knowing I am loved, cherished, and wanted.

I wake up every morning knowing that I will do anything to make a difference in this cruel, dark world.

I wake up knowing that at 7:15 every morning I have a mother and father who will say they love me and to have a good day.

I wake up knowing there are billions of books for me to read, and I will wake up every morning until I finish every one.

 

Life is filled with endless possibilities.

I can be whatever I put my mind to, and I want everyone else to feel that way.

Some people never see another morning.

I want every human, animal, and insect to wake up every morning.

It is a magical feeling.

This poem is about: 
Me

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