Bags lie under her eyes the color of charcoal,

deep enough to haul around the

bulky course textbooks that have become

her sacred Bible.

Walking, running, sprinting:

The train doesn’t stop,

Complete perfection is the only option.

Or else the bitter taste of failure

Will overwhelm her senses like

Rotting roadkill.

She drags herself out of bed each morning, 

Only to chug a cup of espresso and head out to 

Further her suffering;

Puffy eyelids and swollen cheeks are the battle scars 

Of the life of an honors student.

But how much longer can she keep her frantic grasp?

How much time until the fingers slip, until she freefalls

Into the dark oblivion?

She trudges her feet, urging her body

To obey her commands;

Anything is possible with enough determination, 

right?