Tuesday, August 23, 2011

#12 Spilled milk

Walked into the classroom with a masquerade of unwavering fortitude this morning. I could actually feel the butterflies and flutter inside me.
The digital clock seemed too friendly to me when I stopped writing.
Curiously, I peeked over my shoulders. I saw faces of confidence, uncertainty and nervousness.
Which do I belong? Presence of emptiness started to fill me up and I left the examination room in dismay.
Dear Luck, I am depending on you now.

May the murderous lap, soon be over. Sincerely, me.

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