Write a poem about a routine or ritual that is part of your life. It can be something like making coffee every morning, or something like attending religious services once a week.

Some people thrive on routine,
On knowing what comes next,
On following the familiar path;
I am not one of those people.

Erratic schedules never phased me.
Late nights and early mornings,
Meal times scattered throughout the day,
Varied school or work hours, as assigned.

Of late, though, I try to maintain routine.
Alarms set to wake up and take pills,
Controlling when to work and when to play.
Could it transform my life?

Well, still no regular times to eat,
Still no common time to sleep,
As yet, no repetition-wrought epiphanies;
Could routines be overrated?