Above it's dark, but still I linger,
Tap tap tap from incessant fingers.
I won't stop - I can't. I'm not yet done.
How many words now? Nine-hundred-and-one.
Stiff neck, stiff back, eyes begging for sleep,
The hole I've been digging is suddenly deep.
‘Give in!' my head tells me, my vision blurs,
I fight to the end, to stop would be worse.
The words still flow out at three-oh-eight,
I've been working all day, why'd I leave this so late?
I will hate myself when the morning comes,
Racked with exhaustion, head filled with drums.
And it seems that the lesson is never quite clear,
Now the work of the future is what I most fear.
When this load is done, I'll pretend that I'm free,
But delaying my fate is all it will be.