Long hours spent laboring on a poem.

In the minutes before I succumb to sleep.

Finally, poem completed,I fought the clock and won, or so I thought.

Eternally distracted, the scholarship-seekers mortal enemy caught up to me.

 I realized, to my surprise, that a loop hole stripped me of my masterpiece.

Silent now, is my literary prodogy forevermore to be.

After looking on the site, I understood the cause of my plight.

Casting off the common sense I had gave me a hint, I

Refused to read the fine print. 

All my endevors, like the rain received from the weather, down the storm drain my poem goes.

zebras have strippes, and humans have finger prints.

Yet my poem had the wrong tag. No need torture myself. This poem is my rushed attempt to      salvage what was left. Goodnight.