A poem meant for the Youth Fest open mic, but rejected because,
"The teachers won't like it."
{Silent protest against our second preliminary exams, amongst other things}

Complex numbers, dimensions,
Distance between different suns,
Living classifications,
Graphs of different equations.

Solve for x, integrate,
Find the molecular weight,
Oh, a holiday? Bless the date!
Is this flower pedicellate?

Ah, the life that is ISC,
Exam induced anxiety.

Classes from two to nine,
Two hours of sleep? Yeah, that's fine.
'This will help you truly shine!'
No, it only leaves us cryin'.

So many exams, one after another,
Let us study! Give us a breather!
Do you realise, some may wither,
Under this constant, unforgiving pressure?

But it's fine, how can it not be?
It's for our own good, apparently.
We have no business feeling anxiety.
Diamonds are made under pressure, you see.