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Traffic
Like toy soldiers on a battlefield in a children's bedroom
Moving in sync, never to stop
Feet always moving
Up, down, all around the rooms and hallways
When one moves, we move with them
Up one step, down one step, following the other in front
Time is always ticking, counting down from five
The only time we stop, is when we reach our destination
An hour goes by, and it only repeats
Waiting
You can never be used to the muscle tightening of the legs
The loss of breath after a rush to the next floor
Breathe, breathe
There's no excuse for being late, not even for the traffic
The traffic holding us back, our anxiousness increasing
Waiting
Isn’t that how we all feel during those days?
Afraid of taking our time, of being forgetful
What are the other's thinking?
Do they lose their breath after the journey?
Do they ever get tired of it?
Waiting
This is the best part, when our fourth time of anxiousness dissipates
The countdown for the final minutes, the final five we worry for
Once the minute hand hits the five, we use our last bits of energy
To run, to speed, to fight through the traffic
To our next destination, wherever that may be
Though we will never realize, there's always the next day
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This was written directly after a 5 minute walk up three floors of stairs to my classroom. I got the urge to write this piece after being out of breath, and overall overjoyed to get to class on time.