Flipping page after page,
For days upon days,
Sub-stages sandwiched in tests;
We keep our poor heads,
Off pillows of bed,
To battle with each of these pests.
This lecture, that figure,
The load just gets bigger,
We’re stuck in a nauseous trance;
Our heads beginning spinning,
Surely, sleep is winning,
For the words have started to dance.
The day will soon come,
When our wits are all numb,
Pages rifled and pens clicked on cue;
Exchanging glances with friends,
Till the time finally ends,
On the tips of out tongue , “How’d you do?”.
On that fateful board,
Be it bloodstained or scored,
With marks high or horrendously low;
A clap or a cheer,
A sniff and a tear,
Then it’s off to the canteen we go!
I’ll admit, this poem is rather like some of the things I wrote while in school. I was, however, thinking I may send it into the college magazine.