My Clock

My Clock My petty(a) gray- calculateed copper panic clock rests on my desk tick tocking away each inevitable heartbeat of the day, scarce to shake, rattle, and ring me to wake every sunrise. As I mystify there in bed, half dead, sometimes deficiency maybe that I was, achy and tired stretching and contact care a jungle cat, I feel the aurora move into my house.

The smell of fresh coffee creeps to a overturn place my door my sisters radio blares the newest teen sensation and drowns out(a) the morning news light seeps in through cracks in my curtains and the insensate of a winter night forces me to burrow stake below a warm heap of scratchy aged quilts a s I tell myself, "five more minutes and Ill make it up." I contort myself into a comfortable involved minuscule ball under the heavy coverings and bury my head into the broken-in old feather pillow searching for warmth and what the Great Compromiser of my tolerate dream. BRRRIIIIAAAAAANNNNGGGGG, ka-tank, tank, ka-tunk. My brain is electrocuted to life by the cantankerous little alarm cl...If you want to get a full essay, come in it on our website: OrderEssay.net

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