Title: Stress is strange
by Catherine from Northumberland | in writing, poetry
Stress is strange, it can be one of two things
It can be something that you thrive on, until the phone rings
Then you are distracted and everything goes wrong
You lose your concentration, you haven't worked that long
You find distractions everywhere, no work ever does get done
Your mind is on your work but your heart is on the run
Trying to escape the work that you need to get sorted
But soon it all gets clearer, no longer seems distorted
This sort of stress is better than the other, I think
Calmer you feel, your brains not on the brink '
Of exploding and melting down, you have no hope of learning
The stress it poisons you and stops your brain from turning
Out the ideas that you need to know, this is what I say
You know that you will fail before the games are under way
The levels get higher until they reach that point, of cracking
You know you can't do it, you find your knowledge lacking
People shout and scream, sort it out and learn it all
But they don't understand, and the work pile is too tall
No learning can help you, nothing will ever console you
This is the worst possible kind of stress, it is kind number two.
SCHOOL
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