Tell me,
What do you see when you look at me?
Does this look healthy to you?

I am
At my breaking point. I have no
way of coping with this.
All I think about
day in, day out, is about
how
whether I am going to fail.

I can't fail. I have been brainwashed into
I have been told since I was
very young that I need these to be happy.
I am not happy.

This is a system rigged against me
against us
against people who cannot
control
People who cannot stay calm.
People like me
are falling
drowning in expectation
fear of failing
a fear of the future.

Call me lazy.
You may call me lazy
but I am so exhausted.
Working part time
revising
panicking because this is my everything.
I have no time to be happy
or be productive.
All there is time for is stress
and tears
and I am not happy.

If you want to die slowly my friend
Love a person who doesn't love you back;
You treat her as if she's the first bloom rose
In her eyes you're nothing more than a potato sack.

You'll give her your notes before exams
Even if you don't have a copy for your own;
She's call her special friend right in front of you,
"Can we study together? I can't study alone."

You'll offer help when she looks swamped
As you're about to leave office for the day;
She'll smile and move the paper mountain to your desk
"Thanks! I was so worried I was gonna miss his b'day."

She'll mention how some guy is so awesome
When you're just about to express how you feel;
She'll be texting him about tomorrow's plans
As you're paying the "one way romantic" dinner bill.

There are many ways to **** yourself
I urge you to choose your way wisely;
Find something that'll end it fast
Loving such girls will **** you painfully slowly.

It's the end of the semester.
It brings along all the pressure.
To pass my exams.
I really hate this sick program.
And thus,
The teachers throw stuff on us.
They realize they don't have enough,
In the stupid grade book.
To make it look,
Like we've actually been learning.
It's actually quite concerning.
Especially since it's an education system.
But whatever, next semester will be a repetition.
I can't do anything about it.
You'd think that'd help my stress levels a bit.

Semester Exam

Fluorescents flicker and fall upon bowed heads
And printed letter-paper, organized
By title, paragraph, number, and line,
Interrogations set in Bookman Old Style

And then words fall, flung bravely to each sheet
As desperate, inky thoughts flailing for breath
While to battered be by split infinitives
Demanding an A, praying for a prom date.

The paper's a mess, one’s mind is in shreds
Fluorescents flicker and fall upon bowed heads

i feel like i'm stuck
on earth
because my As don't have stars next to them
so i'm a galaxy behind
everyone
else.

i didn't know you
but i think about you everyday

you were a friend of a boy whose brother i knew
and that's where i got the news
that you hung yourself when the pressure rose
your neck purple, the ground an inch too far from your toes
the ****** education system that got to your head
the grades and the scores and the race making you wish you were dead
you couldn't handle the look on your mom's face
"mom, i came second, not first, today"
you loved her, you loved your dad too
you loved your guitar, your band, the girl whose eyes were a million shades of blue
but the waves rose and you couldn't keep up
maybe it was just ill-fate or bad luck
you were just another fish swimming for dear life
but you were shoved away by the rough unforgiving tides
drowning, slowly, then all at once,
you went from being top of your class to being called a dunce
the disappointment and the rage and the wrinkles of stress on your mother's skin
made that sadness grow deeper and deeper within
until one day you realized it was better to give in

and so you climbed up that chair
pushed it away with your feet
kissed a picture of her
and listened to the last of your heart beat
hanging in the air
you whispered goodbye
"mother, i tried, i really did try"
and the wind left your lungs
the blood stopped in your veins
you dived away from reality
swimming into a new kind of pain

i think of you often
the friend of a boy whose brother i knew
i think of you often
because i can relate to you

its getting harder
the pressure, the stress
nothing is enough
not even my best
i think of joining you
in that darkness of bliss
looking at the world around me
there won't be much to miss
this rat race of doom running after a life of success
for me, it's just no longer worth it
so call me a coward or say i lost
but maybe death will give me what i want most
an escape from always having to win
an escape from the emptiness eating me from within

i think of you often
and i would like to know
are you happier now?
away from woe?

if you were here
would you advise me to stay?
or would you tell me to climb
that same chair, with the same belt, in the same room, at same same hour
in the exact
*same
way.