Waking up is the worst part of my day.
I loathe it in every way.
As I open my eyes and glance at the mirror.
There, the same as everyday, I see her.
The same scared and confused little girl.
The one my father used to twirl.
No longer small there is sadness in her eyes.
I'm not deceived I see through her lies.
She says she's fine but we know the truth.
You see it in her smile that shows not a tooth.
You can take all this to only mean
She has grown tired of all she's seen.
I close my eyes when the truth is too real.
I detest remembering I can feel.
I lay wishing to turn to rock.
Blast! The clock!
I quickly recall that I can't stay
This is why waking up is the worst part of my day.