Cereal is too soggy Sun is too hot Clothes are too big And the bus is too crowded Before it has even begun I feel the dread of the day building in my gut And souring my mouth with fear Everything is too new Shoes are too stiff Backpack is too heavy Faces are too eager This place Where my impression has yet to leave its mark Feels foreign An alien world with strange bodies Mouths are too wide Words are too fast Eyes are too beady Hands are too touchy I am unable to keep up with the tumbling of language from their lips That press and pry under my skin “What’s your name?” “Where are you from?” “Who’s your first period teacher?” Their questions are a trickle of too cold water Splashing beneath my collar and spilling down my back The itchy embarrassment of singularity slithers across my skin And though it has barely been two hours All I want is to slip under my covers And let the day finally be over.