there are chains on my desk,
you cant see them but i can,
in fact i can feel them.
i can feel them tight around my neck
pulling me away from my soul.
they slowly drag me 'forward'.
my grip on freedom weakens as the links tussle my neck,
the singing of birds fade and become more distant.
singing choirs cease to sing.
the sun shines differently,
its a dim light with no glimmer anymore.
i see less colours now and my muscles ache.
i move less, smell less, feel less.
its cold as i subdue to the pull.
my clattering and rebellious steps form rhythm
my legs conform as i march in sync with all the same misfortunates around me
dragged and dragged we march
there is no point to resist
now we march
confidently we march
but our souls were left behind

See her? With the impeccable taste in fashion?
She's top of her class in calculus. You probably didn't know that.
See him? With the fearless glint in his eye?
He's studying science, but he has the soul of a poet. Tests lie.
See her? Buried behind a stack of books nine tall and three deep?
She's terrified that she'll get a B, because, to her, that's failing.
See him? Museum-quality doodles and red ink decorate his papers.
He'll be president one day, if he can find something that he loves.
See me? No, actually you probably don't see me. Why would you?
I've managed to dangle from the rim of the outskirts of life so far.
Someone once told me that seeing gifts is a gift itself. Maybe it's true.
But, didn't they ever tell you that geniuses doubt themselves, too?
That we doubt ourselves most of all?

Homework piling up
Deadlines all right ahead
Overdue assignments needed
All I can feel is absolute dread

I have so much to do
Yet so little time
But you know what I'll do
I'll simply wait to the deadline

Let's write some poetry
Scroll through Facebook
Watch a movie
Maybe read a book?

Let's talk to friends
Play some games
Finally clean my room
Leaving my future in flames

I should get around to that
I should probably start
Oh hey look!
Here's my old works of art

Let's look through a photo album
Do some online shopping
Maybe I'll even bake some sweets
I'm showing no signs of stopping

I've got a SAC tomorrow
Exams are around the corner
How is it 3am already!?
I'm surely a goner

I'm so lost
What are we studying?
We had homework?
What does it all mean!!!

But after all these years
Countless days of procrastination
I still haven't learnt my lesson
Spending each day in complete frustration

I'll leave it all to the night before
Ah, I love throwing myself into a panic
Freak out, Cry and repeat
My mindset is satanic

Even right now
As I write this poem
Avoiding my priorities
My stress is forever ongoing

I should probably get onto that

"The best four years of your life"
more like four whole years of stress and strife.

It's like an inescapable cage
filled with people who can't act their own age.

Hearing all the kids trying to sound cool,
When in all honesty you just want to see their blood pool.

Fake love, fake people, unsure of who to trust,
but apparently, in school, popularity is a must.

Going through seven classes a day,
wishing you could just make the pain go away.

I want to give up, just get up and fly,
but perhaps a better solution would be to just die.

It's hot outside and I've put on the air conditioner,
A glass of lemonade is an ideal refreshener.

Reading a classic as I lay on the bed,
For a moment I find it funny for having no studies on my head.

On my mobile, I play some music for a while,
Dance on it, but simply freestyle.

In this way I pass my holiday,
Until I realise that there's school the next day.

he sits at a desk in the library.
it’s nearly midnight and you watch him
take his notes and drink his water.
you’re a desk away from him
and you know that it’s much too late
to be making conversation
but he looks up
ruffles his own hair
and smiles at you something weary
something tired
something beautiful enough to
make you smile back
more genuinely than you honestly should.
he’s a stranger but it’s fine.

it’s dead silent in here
just you and the books
and the millions of things you could say
wrapped up in them
and while you’re trying to think of something
he curls his lips around the words
“finals, huh?”

you laugh and say
“yeah man.”

you want to maybe elaborate
tell him that this psychology exam
might actually be the death of you
tell him that you’ve been studying for
four hours straight and you think your eyes
might actually fall out of your head.

he laughs back and nods
“how many exams you got left?”

you groan
“just one. you?”

“two.”

“good luck with that”

he laughs and you want to say something
to make him do it again

he feels special
you know?
like.
you just know sometimes
but the air doesn’t feel like magic
it feels like you’re in a library
at midnight the night before a final exam
that you don’t know a **** thing about
but the guy a desk away from you
is still looking at you.
he’s still.
looking at you.

and you hadn’t noticed but
you’re still looking at him too.

he says
“i’ve been here since like six.
do you wanna get a coffee?”

just a little smile around the words
“yeah, sure.”

and you put away your psychology notes
and your laptop and your book
even though you’ll need to study for
at least three more hours to understand
a single thing it’s fine.
he packs up his things and the two of you
walk to the elevator.
he lets you press the button

you ask
“what were you studying?”

he says
“bio. you?”

“psych.”

“ouch.”

“yeah”
you laugh
and he laughs
and the elevator laughs
as it dings and opens its doors
even the environment has begun to
take part in your merriness.

you step inside
he hits the button for the first floor
and he says
“i took psych last semester.
which one are you in?”

you say
“one-ten.”

he says
“yeah that one’s rough. barely
passed it.”

“tell me about it”
you joke

and then the elevator dings again
and the doors open again
and the two of you fumble to step out
like you go first no you go first
and it’s all very cute

and you get to the starbucks on the first floor
get in line and take note of
how many people are still here
frantically cramming information into their
tired
tired
brains.

time skip
you two have your coffee.
you sit at a little table that
just barely became vacant
and you sip.
you got something hot and
he got something cold
and you thought it was cute because
it’s december and here he is with a frappe.

you chit and you chat
and think maybe this could be that
romance for the ages
that the movies talk about.

his laugh is like a jingle bell
happy holidays to you both
it seems.

he smiles at you again and you
sip your coffee
and before you know it
it's dangerously approaching 2 a.m.
but you can’t bring yourself to
check the time anymore

you laugh until you’re not strangers anymore
and he says
“this is such a great study break”

you say
“i’m so glad you asked to get coffee”

he smiles and says
“me too.”

and it’s all downhill from there

(or is it uphill?
you never can remember).

It‘s not what we ought,
Never was it sought,
To bring out a thought,
That you would get caught,
By the hands that fought,
In the night and fog,
On sunny days - drought.
Then you get knocked out,
Coffee in the mouth,
Then a single froth,

It’s caffeine.

An overdose.

You’re dead.

I am studying.
I am dying from exams.
I should get some sleep.