by Amanda Young
‘Twas the night before midterms, when students do last minute review.
The anxiety settling in and everyone is feeling blue.
Highlights, post-its, and colorful pens lie askew,
Along with binders, study guides, tissues … boo hoo.
Can I call in sick?
Is this all a trick?
I’m so ticked,
None of this information has clicked.
It is 2 A.M. and I don’t want to fail,
I feel like a dog chasing its tail.
I’m moving at the pace of a snail.
All I want is to be accepted to Yale.
That’s it I’m going to sleep.
I don’t give a flying bleep.
Oh look at the flying sheep.
I already know that tomorrow I’m going to weep.