The Test
Sitting in a cold solid desk
My brow drips, warm with nerves
Sounds in my ears alternate between ringing and screeching
The biting taste in my mouth
My jaw works worrying over the ink on the page
I view the grotesque paper
This is it
I feel myself shaking
Thoughts running and grating in my head
My hands vibrating from the nerves
The fabric of my clothes is sopping, it clings to my body
A pearl of knowledge surfaces
A glimmer of hope appears
Make it or break it
I will succeed
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