Thursday, April 9, 2009

A poem describing how it feels to go take a test as late as you possibly can without preparing much before hand.

Hepe. Not happy.
Please don't confuse the two.
No trace of mirth is on my face:
I don't know what to choose!

For "A" seems reasonable I s'pose,
But "B" could also be true,
And "C" has words I can't define.
I haven't got a clue.

I tightly squeeze my tired eyes
And hear the clock race on.
No inspiration to my mind.
I stifle my tenth yawn.

Filling in my last best guess,
I race back down the stairs
And give no glance to that crude screen.
It's Hepe, man. Who cares?

1 comment:

Robyn said...

Ha ha!! Best. Poem. Ever. And I liked your use of "man" at the end, especially after you corrected me yesterday when I used the term... :)