Burnout: A Poorly Made Poem Another test An A again. I did my best, ten out of ten. I see my friend, a nine you see. I can’t pretend. She is getting closer to me. She smiles at me. My perfect score. She seems happy. I should’ve done more. They call me smart. They do their best. They have good hearts. I wish I could rest. They have their sport, and I support. They’re getting close, I’m hitting plateaus. It’s worse, it’s worse, I try to rehearse. How can I pretend? The fantasy ends. They’re going ahead doing great things. I’m behind left with nothing. Without "smart" they are ahead. I’m hanging on by a thin thread. They’re doing great can’t you see? All that falls apart, is me.
Uhh I've basically had writer's block and I didn't know what to write. I probably haven't written poetry in like 3 years so this is my poor attempt at it. T-T Thanks for reading I guess. Feedback is appreciated. Idk if I'm supposed to talk about this or try and let the poem speak, but it's about basically gifted kid burnout.
