(All picture credit goes to Emily Sanders)


Round and round and round we go,

Merry go round, merry go round,

Will it ever stop?

Or pause or slow?

The doctor is coming,

Perhaps he’ll know.


Failure is hard to swallow,

Like pills but bigger.

The professors don’t care,

They just mark and shrug and pull the trigger.


When I fail they’ll give me pity,

Because I’m not that bright, or quiet or pretty.

Success is the only way I’ll get what I want,

But if I don’t succeed what will I do?

It won’t be undone and neither will they,

But perhaps that is a question for another day.


All I know is that in my head there are monsters.

The kind that every person can see.

But they don’t have fangs or claws or hides,

They wield pens and apathy, almost as if they were knives.

And it is here, of all places, that my future resides.


Published by Lucy Mack