Poe(try).

Grades are good but I mean there is no other choice. Academics are basically your only voice. The only way to be heard in such a loud world. A world where geniuses are born with a GPA higher than yours. They eat scholars like you for breakfast. While you study for your SAT & ACT, they frown at the 2200 they just received. As if the numbers are wrong or there was an error. You try and try to get better. Still, there's an error. Don't let anyone see how hard it is to maintain your pretty grades, pretty face, pretty smile. To walk in your shoes, they'd need more than a mile. No one can see past this facade. They just see the grade. Yet the pen you hold in your hand, writes everything you wish to say. To scream. To whisper. Keep trying they say. You'll get better they say. But you try, and try. But sometimes it isn't good enough. They don't understand, but that pen in your hand Quivering over a blank page Waiting to say everything you have bottled up. It understands.