I stare at my phone,
Eyes heavy with bags they don’t need to carry.
I look from note to text book,
From jotter to pen,
And wonder why I’d been so happy to come to this school.

I’m so exhausted that weird things are becoming my lifestyle,
Like talking to myself,
And considering mixing coffee with fearless.
They said this school life would be fun and filled with adventure,
Not that I’d be using a torch to read from my phone too tired to remember
That my note book is on the other side.

You see in this school Life there are so many scams,
Some people even have a course with the code “419.”
Our momos and seniors are telling us that we don’t have to finish the outline,
People actually realize that it’s way too much.
Yeah, I understand that but I don’t want to be sidelined,
By a course I’d underestimated.

They say night reading works but to me it’s a set up.
Talking with friends is a lot of fun till you realize you need to sit up.
I’ve read books about teenagers young and old who got to uni and fucked up.
Lord father, I know you’re reading this poem,
Please help me, I really need to step up.