Wasted

Days wasted in a classroom
information whipping by,
like ripples in a stream
made by the teacher's voice,
skipping a long top.

All the while nothing sticks in side my head,
but the song from last night's celebration.

The days pass by,
the same mundane pattern.
I will be forced to stop and think
prepare for what's to come.

We're blind about what lies ahead,
until we have the time to stop.
It will soon become imminent-
we must stop the wasted nights
to clear the haze for our future.