After The Alarm Poem by Micronjan (Micron)

The room wakes before I do,
Light spills in, a golden hue.
Quiet hangs like held-up air,
For a moment, nothing's there.

The clock is just a silent shape,
The world is still; there's no escape.
Then thought strikes sharp—I'm too late,
I've slept through all the hand of fate.

Panic snaps me off the bed,
Heart a drum inside my head.
Sheets cling tight, the floor bites cold,
Time runs fast; I can't hold hold.

Light turns harsh, it points, it stings,
Silence loud with broken things.
Keys and shoes, a rushed excuse,
Leaping as if motion could reduce.

The quiet breaks, the day is mine,
No rewind, no borrowed time.
I run, I fall, I chase, I flee,
The morning has already caught me.