By Declan Funk
The cold breeze wakes me with a mighty frown,
Eyes stare at me throughout my dampened soul.
As the loud booming sound starts to surround,
I feel as if I should drown in my bowl.
The car pulls in and I hope to withstand.
I prepared for war like a king just crowned.
I still stand tall and follow the command.
I fill my flask and my stress is unbound.
And yet, I loved it;, now I just want rest.
Snot comes out of my nose and starts to drip.
I hoist my bag and ready for my quest
I dust my feet and start to gain my grip.
I step one foot inside and take a breath,
And ready to enter the school of death.
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