Open books, blue paper and a pen on the side of the table
Tired eyes, a cup of coffee, an apple next to a computer cable
Earbuds, a phone, a coloured pencil case,
and behind this picture, a green and pale face.
It is the scene of pure despair,
A student, gasping for air,
Looking around, feigning efforts
But in reality, a loser of all sorts.
All around him, a horde of people,
An arena really, and he feels a cripple,
Inferior to all, drowning in the sea
But there is one thing he does not see:
All around him, pale faces and green even
Feigning effort, feeling beaten,
And the whole scene is a comedy
Each player sick, looking for a remedy.
Other posts that may interest you:
- The Sundial Press´ Code of Ethics
- Two Decades Post UNSCR 1325 We Still Define Warfare as Peace
- La police tue – Entre racisme d’Etat et musèlement de la liberté d’expression
- Because I can go for a jog without fearing for my life – On why I march and what should change
- Why Can’t They Just Try Harder?: Parasite, Ki-Jung, and the Myth of Meritocracy