updated modified version of Tomas Gunn's poem:

Why do we start the morning off in a gray dullness that is so underwhelming
And end the day with a night so dark that it is hard to see yourself?
There is not a worse feeling than peeling off the warm and secure covers and setting a warm foot on the cold floor
How can this be a sane routine?
It is the worst torture!
Not even a splash of water on the face can awaken me
What I would give just to have another five minutes in my literal security blanket

Maybe all I need is a quick splash of water in my face
But getting to the bathroom sink at this point would feel like running a full race
Why do I have to be up so early?
Surely this must be cruel an unusual punishment, for what greater hoy is their than sleep?
Sleep is pure serenity, a calm babbling brook that helps soothe the soul.
Yet every morning, I interrupt this process rather rudely, being shaken and getting told that I have to hurry if I want to get to school on time
Some days, I would rather just not leave the comfort of my own bed, because I must say, my literal security blanket is quite sublime.