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Personal Note:

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Poem


The fallen leaves and the stormy clouds.
The countdown of the trial comes down.
Desperate flicks of pages isn't enough
To become an well-known noun.

Trial after trial makes us more than a little tired.
The snide remarks of blurry strangers that never really tire.
The burden of six or more subjects fall on us all.
Our hard work, we hope, would never let us fall.

This never ending race seems to never calm down.
Even if it does, it is followed by a storm.
A path to peace is all we seek,
Through this hectic storm and to feel at ease

With our grades and to go back home,
Without contempt and to let our minds roam
Through the clouds, for just a minute.
And enjoy because the sky is the limit.

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