The alarm rings, I hit the clock
I look out of my window towards the dock.
I put on my uniform and drag a comb through my hair,
And wolf my breakfast in the kitchen downstairs.
I run for the bus that brings me to school
I barely catch it though I try to stay cool.
Bell rings for first class loudly in my head.
God, I wish I was still in bed.
The lessons drag on until lunch.
Then only an hour on our food do we get to munch.
Back to a stuffy classroom to learn out of books,
Trying to disguise our very bored looks.
The clock ticks slowly to twenty to three.
In a few more seconds we’ll finally be free!
The bell rings; a mad stampede out the door,
Ignoring the books and pens scattered on the floor.
OrlaNiSheaghdha.com 
Hey orla, really enjoyed your writings. You have a knack. It rings loud and clear. If i was an editor of the newyorker id call you and say come work for us. But im not. Maybe one day i will be. All i have to do is keep looking up at the stars at night and keep saying “please please god let me be an editor for the new yorker”. Ah maybe one day. Orla i also reAd your how to be a better person in life piece. i was enlightened by the piece. I am still glowing from it. Ah no im not glowing. But metophorically i am. I swear. But on a more frank note you have what it takes to be recognised. Keep writing. P
Orla if you get a chance add me on fb p