Anonymous
November/ December 2024
Books stack high like towers tall,
Deadlines rush in, having to call.
Eyes grow heavy, eyes are sore
But with every step my body feels torn
On sleepless nights,
I chase the shadows while chasing lights.
Every “A” just fuels the burn,
A lesson learned, a twist and a turn.
Heart beating fast, feeling thin,
In search of worth we start to spin.
The line between success and strain,
Blurs beneath the weight of pain.
Oh, to pause, to breathe and to mend,
Let fleeting grades not set the end.
There’s beauty here beyond the score—
Perfection is so quick to bore.
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