she stares at the pages in front of her face
funny to think a few sheets of paper determines her place
her self-worth molded my that single number
exhausted from the stress, all she wants is to slumber
she taps the pencil against her chin
every student watching her, but this time she doesn’t grin
she feels the pressure, the stares, the looks
if her grade’s not over ninety, what’s the point of the books?
she tries so hard not to crack
with thoughts running fast on a race-track
she goes to bed with tears in her eyes
not knowing what the next day will bring when she’ll arise
...and do it all again.