Waking up in the mornings you never really know,
What is going to take place during your day,
Or what is going to be said to you by somone else,
For all you know everyone could just stay away.
A house smelling like pancakes and sausage,
Parents up cooking breakfast early in the morning,
Four brothers all hurddled over the kitchen table,
Still tired from your restless night- stuck yawning.
Reaching your hand out to grab a single pancake,
Your brother starts screaming and getting louder,
Wanting to irk your nerves until you get upset,
The spinning nerves inside you aren't any calmer.
He does it because he craves all of the attention,
He has to have it, or he'll pout and have a fit,
He knows he can get it by doing one little thing,
The brat is so annoying; he's a little nitwit.
You ignore it for a rough couple of minutes,
Just hoping your parents weren't so blind,
That they can see everything he is planning-
Planning in his never-ending obnoxious mind.
You're sick of the waiting, sick of being left out,
You run to your room and slan your door shut,
Wanting the attention too and needing it,
Center of attention, for one day; somewhat.
