The Piece of Paper

As the bell begins to ring

a sea of students invades the halls

the sounds of lockers

the whispers of tomorrow wail through the walls

and as the doors close,

I am there, present, with time to spare

Is that not enough?

The calendar melts as we approach the new season

days are irrelevant

work is flooding the halls

 and I am there again

handing my dues, while others have no clue

early and efficient, my work is commendable

Is that not enough?

The hours grow frigid and cold as the darkness swallows what is left of the day

I think to myself, I had a great day

never tardy, I hand in work on time and my social chemistry reigns supreme

But something happened the next morning, amidst the bustling of the first period rush 

As I sat down

On my desk, lied a piece of paper

Riddled with circles and funny numbers

accompanied with a time limit and a Number two pencil

And it hit me...

It did not seem to matter how early I was

It did not seem to matter how well my work was received

It did not seem to matter how much of a participant I was

Everything boiled down to this piece of paper

This flimsy piece of paper that was blankly staring me in the face

And it was then when I realized...

Whether I passed or not, will it ever be enough?