Teenagers around the peaceful nation
sit and wait in anxious expectation,
wriggle, writhe, quiver and sigh,
jitter and splutter and shake.
Wring energetic hands.
A combination of a secret complex electronic monster
(available from midmorning)
and hazy, woozy, hay-fevery memories
of exam hall grids
and dropped pen lids
(how embarrassing).
This is what decides our fate(s).
We worry, whether we need or not,
lest we should anger the deities,
the examiners, the admissions tutors.
They could strike us down
at any moment.
We are powerless.
