Hours seem to turn to seconds,
Yet drags on for what seems like centuries.
Coffee flows in our veins,
In a poor attempt to stay functional.
Papers clutter the table tops
Snack wrappers piled up in a corner.
Pens, Pencils, and highlighters
Slowly dying as they touch countless pages
Pain digs deep within our skull
As our brains begs for the sweet relief of sleep
Letters form words
Words form sentences
Sentences form ideas
Ideas that take form on stapled sheets of paper
Papers that deals out the cruelist of tortures
We hold our breath
Waiting for a simple letter.
Letters determine numbers
Numbers determine the path we lead
The path may continue to the horizon
Or burn in the forest called Failure
We attend the funeral of Fairness
After experiencing the stinging abuse of injustice
Words are our chains
Numbers are the crushing force on our shoulders
A burden we can never rid
Until we join Fairness in the ground