A Twenty Minutes poem.
The clock runs just a little faster than
my thoughts do and so
I fail the exam for lack of answering
I am sure
given another chance
I could get my thoughts to sprint
there at the end and
better results would follow
The professor would have to take his words back about me
the ones he wrote on the exam paper
in a red scrawl.
The clock would have nothing to chuckle about
Yes, I did hear it chuckle as it looked at the professor
as I was thinking as fast and hard as I could but
as you can see I was distracted by the clock.
There’s blame just splattered all over the place and
it starts with the clock.