A/N: I am so sorry everyone, I haven't had time to work on this story, but it's definitely NOT discontinued, so keep reading and reviewing. New chapters will be up soon. OK, so hopefully this poem about Squall's morning will tide you over for now...Sorry everyone, I'll have new chapters soon

The Worst Morning Ever

The boy woke with a start.

He glanced at his jet black digital clock, and did a double take.

He had woken up an hour late.

If he hurried, he might still make it to school.

He hurled himself out of bed, and threw his uniform on.

He threw all his schoolbooks into his backpack,

the bulging blue pack protesting loudly.

He swiped a piece of toast; he would have to eat it on the way.

Why hadn't his clock woken him up?

He fumbled with the hard chain on his trusty blood-red bike

And flew out of the driveway, pedaling furiously.

As he pulled out of the apartment complex and onto the road,

he realized he must only have a few minutes.

He stuffed the crusty, cold toast in his mouth;

He made it to the threshold of the school

And to his horror saw the front doors were bolted shut.

He banged at them, the rusted bars creaking and groaning

And in his frustration asked the guard at the entrance why he couldn't enter

And the guard told him it was Saturday.