How much weight can you carry
Before you collapse
Or sink to the bottom
Or crumble down fast?

It’s raining boulders
And you’re catching them all
With worries heavier than stone
It won’t take much to fall

You’re at your breaking point
But don’t let yourself break
See it as a turning point
And refuse to hold the weight

Just let it go
Put it down
Watch it fall
Pour it out

Do what you can
And then worry no more
Catch what you can
Let the rest hit the floor

Find your limit
And end it there
Drop your pile of boulders
You deserve the fresh air

Here it comes, again, the busy time for easy goers
Have to keep heads inside the books, and minds at rest
Rest is not an option, options are yet to be explored
Explore your mind, as you walk through the syllabus

Syllabus has sections A, B, C, D, and E
E for easy, go elsewhere
Else, difficult to get through
Through hard work comes knowledge, through the syllabus

Syllabus being covered , meanwhile, time flows like water
Is essential for slaking thirst
Thirst of knowledge, with search and judgement
Judging capabilities, as I walk through the syllabus


|AB|

"I gtg"
"Brb"
"Ttyl"
"I'll message you later"
"I'll get back to you"
"I'm busy atm"
"I can't talk rn"
**** your lies.
If you're so busy then what is with those 20 posts about being alone? You wouldn't be alone if you talk to the person who you just told to go away.

In the over-crowded buildings
Rife is passive creatures
That attend purely through duty
There is distraction, mischief
And never-ending procrastination

A sea of faces swarm the room
With waves of cliques crashing through
Around this vastly crowded place
My eyes are drawn to one single thing
Not that of noise or familiarity
But to *you

Four exams in five days
On top of a group meeting
And an eight hour work shift
With an hour drive one way
To school, then back
And family and homework
After a holiday weekend
And somehow I think
I'll meet the sixth day
And be all right;
This too shall pass,
Or so they say.

It's one of those days; those days when you feel like a looser.
You feel like there's a pressure pushing in
from people who are busy;
who are better by their busy bodies
budding and boiling over,
filling the life you try to look through with steam,
and as the pressure builds, you
sit and sweat and worry,
trying so hard to hurry.
"What to do?"
You'll say,
and in the end you'll stay;
stay in that sultry salty sweaty *****-up that you are.
Cuz on that day you feel like a looser. You realize
you built your life like a pressure cooker,
not a steam-engine like you wanted.