Under the Weight of Pages
The clock’s red hands keep chasing me,
across the chapters I can’t quite see.
Ink blurs into rivers of thought,
but the answers… they come not.
Notes pile high like unscaled hills,
each one humming with “you must, you will.”
Dreams get traded for one more grade,
as midnight steals the plans I made.
Yet in the quiet, I remind my chest,
even storms must come to rest.
No test can measure the fire inside—
and no mark can dim a student’s pride.
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