Everything bottled up. So many frustrations all in one.
"Give it up", they say. So should I get the job done?
Trapped in a dorm room.. more like a jail cell.
I am here. But what is my purpose?
What is my motivation?
Lost. With loads of work to do. Paper and a runny ink pen.
Blue... that's my favorite color.
I am here, but insead of calculating numbers my emotions begin to run.
Sort of like the pen. I am here.
No longer frustrated. Feeling free at last.
I know my purpose. Found motivation.
Just a ink pen, paper, and I.
I... I am still here.