The Dozer Graduate

I wake up early, 9.30 in the morning,
15 minutes reserved for stretching and groaning,
With just 15 minutes left to go the class,
I rush to the toilet to find my face wash.

Its lucky if I don't have to use the loo,
Because usually do it early morning at two,
With a packet of biscuits and a bottle of water,
I reach my class already late by a quarter.

I ask from the backdoor if the attendance is done,
If it's not I hear its then a L.O.C. mission,
To get into the classroom and sit down quite,
Avoiding all possible angles of the teachers sight.

Some lecturers are good to check attendance at last,
But some are cruel and finish it fast,
They don't let u in once u are late,
Neither do they pity on your crying state.

But sometimes I reach there just on time,
And feel like being punished for an unknown crime,
With my pen in hand and a copy on table,
I write down things with hands unstable.

There are some alphabets in Urdu & Greek,
With artistic streaks both thick and sleek,
When asked to read I couldn't what I wrote,
I'm a champion dozer with everybody's vote.

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