Sleep

SLEEP By Harrison Pyros There is a boy. His face, illuminated by an artificial glow As he searches for valueless information.

His fingers ache As they slid over the dark square buttons That command the lighted box To do their bidding.

A finger taps "Enter" The screen changes Only to show him the words he does not yearn for.

Sighing, he makes a decision To fake it. And clicks on a useless link.

In bulky handwriting, Scrawles words in blue. And finally, He is finished.

Mental stamina abliterated, Bags speedily forming under the eyes, Yawns coming as rapid as gunfire, The boy taps the all forgiving X And the blasted, cursed screen eventually goes dark.

Papers of all sizes Scattered over the counter. Robotically, He organizes them.

Stepping back, He oversees his work. What is worth it? Wasting all that precious time For a mere grade? For non-desirable points?

He will know in the morning, Because right then The boy stumbles to bed And cacoons himself in a much anticipated sleep.