A long hall with desks, all in a row,
Each one waiting, all the same.
It feels like they’re part of something bigger,
Like a quiet army, ready for a test.
The silence is thick, like it’s holding its breath,
The kind of quiet that naps the room before it starts.
The cold desk under my hands,
The ticking clock I can almost hear, but can’t quite tell apart.
It’s not just the test that fills the air—
It’s all the things that comes with it.
The weight of wanting to do well,
Of knowing the answers, but also feeling unfit.
I think of mornings, waking up early,
The feeling of being ready, but not really knowing if you are,
It’s a strange mix of pressure and hope,
Of wanting to get it right, but knowing you might scar.
I’ve learned that it’s not just about knowing things,
It’s about holding your breath and stepping forward anyway.
It’s about the quiet strength that helps you stay calm,
Even when everything lies at bay.
In the end, it’s not just about the answers.
It’s about learning to be okay with what you know,
And trusting that even if you don’t know everything,
You’ll still find a way through the row.
This room is full of stories,
Some of them waiting to be told,
Some already unfolding,
And yet to be sold.
𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐢𝐞✨
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Image is from freewritehouse prompt
