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A day turns to night, some luckless bride of mine always stretched out among routine.
For light turns to dark in the blink of an eye.
All the children new to this, the plain sail set in full grace,
as they murmur to their calling.
Hit in the side of the head when morning breakfast strikes at seven. Not yet passed out but confused and weary.
While the adults take turns of who will call out in despair.
Everyone aboard the rat race and all in line to see who can come out ahead,
the lonely path, fools to dread.
The older you get the more accustomed you are to the sun rise, hours become minutes.
Lifes passage of eluded actions.
Its almost school time, time to bang your head against the wall with stupid commands and rules to break in secret.
Theres a teacher who teaches from books approved by the church of England, so your like the rest and fit in with this race.
A lucky break for the fortune of Gods chosen few.
A piece of literature falls on the desk, where words are jumbled up
nor do they match.
Suddenly new text is in front of your eyes only for you to read.
Some break out of the norm, where getting lost was inevitable.
Going to school is much like looking through a catalogue of what you want to do when your of working age, another smack in the head.
The parents are off doing their task, working a job to pay for stuff.
Locking horns no doubt with a client.
The more you work the more your taxed which accounts to nothing. The more comes in the more goes out. Just another person to lie to.
Just another meaningless task to follow from the same kind of colleague, with the same silenced thoughts in mind followed by no action............
What a waste of a great opportunity to be yourself and take action instead of another daydream.
Pens roll by with ruler or tape measure within reach.
Just glance at the clock, I wonder whether the husband is doing the same or doodling to pass the time. Its about five o'clock now, time to kidnap the kids from the park, after school hours and take them hostage. For better or worse, fun between the playground and structure.
The same routine of it all, follow the social curriculum of unparalleled submission. We are taught to give our freedom to the government from a young age, the same law which wont even let us carry a gun or kill an intruder!
Submitted by tommydavey on August 16, 2021
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:10 min read
- 13 Views
|Scheme||XXAXXXBBXX XACXXBXB XXCXXXD D|
|Stanza Lengths||10, 8, 7, 1|
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"Turning tide" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 1 Jun 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/107177/turning-tide>.
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