Slow Torture

March 8, 2009
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Nearly perfect silence
But for pencils scratching
And the clock beating out
An eternity

And it is an eternity
Each second seeming interminable
Every moment a wasted opportunity
They won't let me

I sit and
Twiddle my thumbs
And try not to let
Each sluggish second
Pass over my skin like steel wool

Colorful, ethereal words float through my mind
Images I won't ever capture again
Like prize butterflies
And I am netless

I stifle a moan
At the unborn poem
Dying in my penless hands
I grasp at the words
But they slip through my fingers like

Stories, too
Oh, the stories I could tell
If they'd let me

My empty fingers start to cramp
And I feel myself retreating into my shell
Soul laden with barrenness

The proctor's loud voice
Call me out of despondency
'Please put your pencils down'

I watch with itching impatience
As tests make their way
To the front of the room

I lunge for my backpack
And clutch my notebook
Scratching out words
As fast as I can

The first words I write?
'I hate standardized tests'

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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

Shadow said...
Mar. 22, 2009 at 9:01 pm
ha, ha Don't we all hate standarized test. P.s. good peom
_cgirl921 replied...
Feb. 13, 2010 at 10:08 pm
Thanks! :)
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