This is a poem I found. I wrote it on September 7th, during a week of Much NervousNess.
This is a song / that should not be a song
for a purposeless habit that shouldn’t exist;
so set down your number two pencils, your pens..
and lay your papers face down on your desk.
No, there’s no way you can make up this test!
There’s got to be some way to separate
wheat from the chaff
After all you can’t seriously believe
you’re the only sob story
that struggles so arduously
up the path
the one rare soul with problems!
-yeah jane’s got a doctor’s note too,
-twice more problems than you do
(and she’s not there whining!)
She’s there with a laugh and her homework on time
so you’d THiNK that YOU TOO could go that extra mile…
Over your weaknesses… like any good worker bee would
Just do what you should
to get by
Just tell Mr.Whatsit
what’s wrong with your eyes
as you do it.