The Test


3414 55th Ave Apt 403
United States

Sitting up on my bed all I can think is red.

It's 2am.

Red is now the color of my pupils from crying over this test.

A test that keeps me up until time is no longer a

thing that keeps me biting on my fingertips.

A test I know I can not do alone.

My father's eyes have already given up on me.

My holy relationship is now at risk because of his feeble remedies.

This test.

Taking my blood, sweat, and tears literally and not metaphorically. 

This sheet of paper causing my chest to rise so high I forget how to

breathe somtimes.

I tell myself this test is why I will get into my dream school.

This test having so much power I have created it into a unit of

measure for my worth.

Time stops and I finally breathe and go to sleep. With the morning comes

prayers and mother's sweet cocoa arms. I am relieved. I stop and think.

This test will not define me unless I allow it to. So I decide to not allow it to define

me by allowing faith to enter the gates of stone cold heart that is

now slowly turning back

to flesh.

This test I overcome.

This test is just a test and it will pass.

It did pass.

This poem is about: 


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