With papers due and books to read, she’s spent.
Her soccer team, on Friday, needs her too.
She does so much, her poor young mind is rent;
It seems there’s always one more thing to do.
Because she still does not know Spanish well,
And Chemistry can be like Greek to her,
She stays up late—how late, she will not tell,
And wakes up early, swearing work occurred.
She wraps a strand of hair around her thumb
And blindly stares at pictures on the wall.
She’s tired, her eyes won’t close, her mind is dumb.
She wonders if it’s really worth it all.
She sits and yanks her hair—it grows so slow.
Her mind a blank, she blinks, and lets it go.