by The Cowl Editor on February 1, 2018
Poetry
by Connor Zimmerman ’20
Staring at the ceiling, with a common feeling.
Trying to leave my bed and overcome this dread.
I steel my nerves, cause I’m living on the reserves.
My alarm won’t stop, I slam the button on top.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.
Looking at the board, it’s pretty clear that I’m bored.
The professor moans on, I respond with a yawn.
My eyes begin to close, and it feels like time slows.
The bell rings, with a sigh I gather all my things.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.
Sitting in a chair, with a feeling of despair.
The homework is not done, and it feels like a ton.
With no motivation, I sit in frustration.
Hearing that sound, everything fades to the background.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.
Day does turn to night, but that does not help my blight.
Limping to my dorm, inside rage brews like a storm.
I can’t unlock my door, feeling mentally sore.
Finally, in bed bracing for the day ahead.
Punching in, punching out,
I’m living on the clock.