Dear Head Examiner, sir,

I am sorry for the pain.

To start I begin with yours,

In the length of this day.

I am sorry for my writing,

For the scribbles on this page.

I am sorry about the sentences,

Going on and on like a maze.

I am sorry about the spelling,

About thee, thy annd thay.

I am sorry about the waffle,

Here and there, coming from and away.

You see I am stressed, by the silence and the time.

You see I loose control, of both my hand and my rhyme.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

You see me fighting for life, to avoid the failing dread.

Of a C, or a D in this ending thread.

Because I cannot concentrate, sir don’t you see.

The sun is getting to me.

Stay in and study, don’t get distracted or play.

Stay in and concentrate, don’t make the most of the day.

I can’t. Not any more at least.

For my hand is broken and my mind is deceased.

Yet my head is filled with facts and sums,

And they all seem to vanish when the exam day comes.

So in the exam I panic and try to claw back the memories,

As my hand writes furiously as one of the many.

I try to tune out the noises of the clock and high heels,

Of the 9am lawnmower and the remains of people’s meals.

So I am sorry for the pain,

For the paper before you now.

I am sorry about the panic,

For the anxiety on each page.

For the hour and a half’s work you see before you now,

Is the rest of my life.

So please mark it well.