False Alarms

Morning shrouded in anxious grey,

heart pounding like a drum,

and then the sound—a fire alarm,

cutting through stillness like a knife,

adrenaline kicks in, racing feet,

as I watch everyone scramble down the stairs.

Relief tinged with irritation,

a drill for chaos, breathing harsh in my chest,

a familiar panic igniting another day,

the sound was supposed to prepare us,

but all I felt was the pull of dread

and the smell of burnt toast that still haunts.