Amidst upcoming distress,
entangled in unrest,
torment lies abreast,
with this uncanny test.
Hours pass so swift,
with the mind adrift,
the pen lay unlift,
success’s but a myth.
Shan’t i be granted a saviour,
to bless my endeavour?
Shan’t i be granted hope,
to help me cope?
Shan’t i be granted motivation
to strive for perfection?
Why can’t i bring myself to study,
to achieve my degree.
The stigmatic gradient of the evening sky,
so cynical compared to the glorious day,
why does time flutter swiftly without cry,
leaving the despair lurking in dismay.
Agony and defeat emits in the horizon,
Yet, their fiery multitude strikes no chord
Have success become but a mocking motion?
and hope and dreams a sickening vogue?
Alas, cries shall go unheard and regrets will loom,
but the tides of fortune has never been frail,
be it i subdue that within which brings doom,
then, the last strand of spirit will prevail
