The word makes me sick.
Pressure won't let me breathe
When did everything become so intense?

When did math tests turn into time bombs?
And essays into long-fought battles?
When did a B become the end of the world?

My air won't come
Tears won't stop
It's real now. It matters.

What happened?
The need to succeed poisoned a generation
Late nights turn to early mornings
The paper still isn't perfect.

Tired eyes
Dark purple circles ringing them
Pale sickly skin
This is the face of success

Is it really worth the pain?
The tears?
The ridiculous pressure?

This is our society.
My generation.
Those of us who aren't dying from
the pressure
Are going nowhere
At a million miles an hour

College looms on the dark horizon.
When will it ever get better?

A synonym of success
Is not happiness.

But we're willing to sacrifice everything
we have
For that seven-letter word.