You wake up. Blinds darkening the room. Hands clinched on to the side of the bed, while the morning alarm that you could scream from hearing is ringing so loud, while you try to put your feet to the floor. While thinking all along is this going to be the day I'm going to make it or is it the Day I barely hang on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem