You edit and edit and edit
till your bones are dry and thin.
You're writing until you forget it-
all the writing that has been.
and your brain is slowly bleeding
and your mind is dark and cold.
all the changes you're conceding
all the different ways they're told.
And your hands feel frozen to you
as your fingertips go numb
and your blood like lead runs through you
as your heart beats like a drum.
And your eyes are slowly crying
frozen tears of frozen lead
all your thoughts are slowly dying
and your muse is long since dead
All the new words you've been trying
all the versions that you've read.
The discarded drafts are flying
different ways things could be said...
As you sit, fretting and sighing
with a growing sense of dread
as your brain feels like it's frying
and more drafts lie yet ahead.
So you edit and edit and edit
every sentence, every word
Deadlines roaring, as you sweat it
all the lines start to look blurred.
Till fatigue comes and ravages writing
and your eyelids turn to steel-
till your mind one day stops fighting
and you slowly cease to feel.
So dear teachers, do have pity
on these students on their way
writing so hard to be witty
but they can't think what to say.