Ideas come and die
I see them passing by,
Helplessly.
Pen cuffed to the exam sheet,
Anchored to the ground, my feet
Hopelessly.
Turning a blind eye
To the clear blue sky
Endlessly.
Is this struggle for pleasure?
Does it lead to the hidden treasure?
Breathlessly.
Silver lining to every cloud,
My parents shall be proud,
Eventually.
