Doing the simplest task can, for some, be tiring
And only result in their envious admiring
Of others who fly through with ease
It seems that the struggle will never cease
The stress reveals itself in a dull pounding
Of the head, to which the victim may be sounding
Out, in silence, “Will this never end?
What I’d give for a hand to be lend!”
But nothing is changed, no progress is made
The cycle continues and will never fade
So long as the sufferer does not see the fault
His wounds shall be forever rubbed in salt
Forever straining for that unconquerable height
The fighter will inevitably lose the fight.

If luck arrives, the clouds will soon clear
And show the struggler all she holds dear
Her heart comes first, followed by the mind
All she needed in life, she will find
In those companions she’s come to love
Never again will anything be held above
So remember whenever your mind may ache
Friends are worth more than the grades you make.