Not enough hours, days, minutes

By the time I am done with work I just want to quit.

By the time all my essays are written,

I just want to give up.   

Though I love to read, write, and draw,

when school is over I have no energy.

I wish I could freeze time; do all my work in a second.

But I suppose that would get rid of the meaning of life,

because isn't it all about deciding how to spend your time?

Either way, I never can find the time.

Why do you think this poem is written so last minute?