I have no use for homework, notes and books,
On weekends when my tired mind wants to rest,
But to escape the stares and dirty looks,
I'm forced to sit here at my cluttered desk.
The daylight fades as sinks the setting sun,
The hours mark my misery complete.
I wonder if I'll live to still have fun,
Or if I'll rot right through this plastic seat.
The hours crawl on before I'm finally done,
I stack the notes and books up nice and neat.
My eyes have glazed, my hair's started to grey,
But I consider this a battle won.
Although uncertain the reward is sweet,
I've lived to study yet another day.
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