And now I'm clicking my nails together,
underneath the desk.
Wondering if the turmoil will clean it's self up.
Thoughts like 'how was your day' and 'Are you okay?" pass through my head,
but it's to late to ask now.
I had my chance,
My luck's run dry.
I think if my pencil falls,
I'll tip over and cry.
n.s.i
