The Alarm Clock

The piercing glow of dawn peaks out from behind the curtain.
Time ticks down to the moment where I scream again.
Like a siren slicing the serene silence,
I am the Grim Reaper of sleep.
The obstacle between star-crossed lovers,
I watch as the sleeping figure snuggles closer to its pillow
And unsuspecting snores rhythmically fill the air.
My cry fills the air.
Snapping open, bleary eyes of distaste meet my smug gaze.
Almost as a reflex, a heavy hand heaves onto my body.
Back to snooze I go.

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