April silent stands, Summer’s deception, at hand.
It throws me shirts, drenched in sweat, Seat cushions, a burning threat, Buzz of mosquitoes, a constant hum, Melancholic appetite, doomed.
It heaps on me a stack of finals, Homework rushed, trials and trials, Exams impending, a looming doom, Useless silence from insomnia’s room.
Summer stirs a thousand poets’ might, To praise its hunger, its radiant light, Deceiving me, in a season’s trance, This day seems like an endless dance.
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