The alarm goes off, "What time is it?" he mumbles. Stretching and moaning getting out of bed he stumbles. He wanders to the bathroom to confront his reflection. His own eyes stare back at him in the morning inspection. Turning the knob, he splashes the cold water on his face. Standing up, he stretches his arms in an open embrace. As the minutes pass he steps out into the cold. Every morning he has the feeling his story is untold. Thoughts streaking throughout his grey matter, Every time it comes down to one as the rest scatter. "I can't change the world if I can't change me," Stepping out into the cold he whispers a plea. The breath escapes him and becomes a fog, His feet brushing earth as he begins his jog. A world unchanged by the birth of a man, Will change when he stops his using own plan. Eyes are focused on the path ahead, "I will change the world before I'm dead."
