Hurrican Hits the fool.

The stupendous sharp spin twisted her stomach,
Ir woke her up Half the night,
She lay awake, turning and crippling,
on the bed,
It bothers her so,
Like red ants scarping on the blisters of your skin,
Painful but still standing.

The clock screamed,
My eyes were red,
MY feet were heavy,
And dragging,
I longed for a warm night's rest.

Why could it not be a holiday still?
Suffer the day?
Stress was building, exams calling,
I was tumbling,
Can time just stop for time?

School bell shrieked my ears dead,
Feeling alien in my sitting position,
Mumbled my neighbour,
Over and over again,
I raised an eye brow with patience gone,
For Once,
Oya hit this deafened fool to her place.

O why is her heart chambered?

... There's no turning point. The Day is the day is the day, and English is.

[Originally written by Grace Nichols, "Hurricane Hits England", but is sadly altered with a fake story of a typical teen anxiety on that certain day. She had been jerked up early by an annoying stomach ache, gone back to her original English class with a bad start and ending, having Exam revisions with coursework making it all difficult, and the last one to go back from school that day]