a dream, swirling in my tired mind, a sequence of letters makes a word.
my brain aches, an onslaught of countless words and numbers.
Get up, grasp the dream, make it out.
Get up, identify it!
Get up!
Get up!
i was told the other day, they found it.
Why can’t you?
place the pencil in my hand, force the lead to bubble it in.
Basic concepts, soak it in, It can’t be that hard.
entering one, cells clinging onto it so it won’t leave, escapes the other
Look at them! They did it, why can’t you?
i am not them my muscles ache when they should not
i am not them i am tired draining the circadian
i am not them i am afraid who will i be
i am not them i want to lay in the grass
this piece of youth.. shouldn’t it be cherished..
trees shredded machines fed
white squares placed in front of me
glaring screens red glow
i look to the right
envy
It can’t be that hard.
Work smart, not hard.
Wake up! Before it slips out of your grasp!
wake up, the dark red finally fades into green.
oh, it fades back?
no.
don’t wake up
it will never be enough; or will it?
Posted in response to the challenge Teenager: In Writing.
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