Tick.
Tick.
Tick.

Nearly perfect silence
But for pencils scratching
And the clock beating out
An eternity

And it is an eternity
Each second seeming interminable
Every moment a wasted opportunity
Because
They won't let me
Write!

I sit and
Twiddle my thumbs
And try not to let
Each sluggish second
Pass over my skin like steel wool

Colorful, ethereal words float through my mind
Images I won't ever capture again
Like prize butterflies
And I am netless

I stifle a moan
At the unborn poem
Dying in my penless hands
I grasp at the words
But they slip through my fingers like
Ghosts

Stories, too
Oh, the stories I could tell
If they'd let me

My empty fingers start to cramp
And I feel myself retreating into my shell
Soul laden with barrenness

The proctor's loud voice
Call me out of despondency
'Please put your pencils down'

I watch with itching impatience
As tests make their way
To the front of the room

Finally
I lunge for my backpack
And clutch my notebook
Scratching out words
As fast as I can

The first words I write?
'I hate standardized tests'