this is a poem i wrote for an assignment about Walt Whitman: The Song of Myself Each dawn at the same hour technology always ruins my peace after the said interruption, I go to find relief to stay appropriate I will stay my tongue from speaking what I do But after sweet relief, I prepare nourishment that keeps my physical body going school, during the time of sun, is unexciting I usually glare at the air around me when i should set my attention to my mentor the final hours of the day are usually a little bit more uplifting than the rest at least I am so much closer to starting the cycle over my life is boring most days, with the same routine, the same places, the same people but they give me reason to go on and of all of these, one and all, I weave the song of myself Feel free to comment