Oh, the ache and pain I feel,
back on this hard wooden chair I reel,
reflecting on wasted opportunities of my day,
thinking how I could have made my masters proud.
This gives me a great spur to please,
so I throw open my books with ease,
and begin to write this poem.
I listen to the repetitive hum,
of the beat-up fan beside me.
It calms my soul and my mind begins to wander …,
My eyes luckily glare at my watch,
only to feel again the pain of not being best,
as I see the precious seconds ticking away.
Again I am spurred, I rush my words,
to form this random spew of words I call my own.
And at the end of it all, I climb off my hard chair,
and gracefully slip into my bed, struggling,
to put the covers over me.

Finally, I lay my full head to rest,
and then I remember I have a test the next day.
One more time I get a spur and try to leave,
the bed, but I am already trapped in a dream
I can never escape.
~Jory T. James