I know I'm going to fail
But there's nothing I can do to prevail
The impending hoard of testing books
That will pain me with a simple look

The distance formula staring at me
The short stories taunting me
The velocity begging to be found
As I, ever so helplessly, look around
The room only to see the clock ticking
My time away from me  

My pencil has bite marks on it now
And my eraser is no longer on its brow
The lead is but a broken point
And my hand aches throughout its joint

But as the bell rings, indicating my freedom,  
I can't help but feel defeated
By the hoard of testing books
That pained me with just a simple look