Exams…
Exams are boring, arduous and long
For the reasons I’m writing this poem, someone should write a song
They come and come and never seem to end
Leaving you studying, even when in bed
We dread them but, we know they’re something we must do
Oi oi, you there, are those crib notes under your shoe
You’re always told they’ll help you later
But surely Shakespeare can’t help if my dreams to be a waiter
They only come, once a year
The rest of the time we spend studying in fear
Will they be hard, will they be tough
I wish they were filled with lots of cool stuff
As I sit and stare, at the blisters on my hand
I wake up from the dream, what’s today,
Another exam
