In writing today we wrote to describe how we felt about Monday mornings. This is my work below:
Still tired from the weekend I slowly open my eyes to find that my light is, my blanket off, and Mum standing at the side of my bed. "Wake up Zeke and get ready" she says. I moan and force myself to get up. I start eating a big, yuck bowl of porridge with my eyes half open. After working my hardest to finish eating, I realise that there is still work to do. Six long hours. I moaned.
Ezekiel Black
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