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The soft voice weaves through the stillness around, 

A tender echo that makes his heart pound, 

 As he looks and streams through the hallways, 

The utter yet indescribable feeling of sophistication nobody can pay, 

 Empty dreams, a wasted, idle spell, 

A captive mind, a darkened, lonely cell, 

 The eyes see dopamine hitting it, 

As his expectations yet don't fit, 

As the word begins to slowly spread, 

His mind is stuck from the weight of other's words hung to the lightest of thread, 

 As the whispers of other's continue to rise, 

The hope of success gives an unrealistic image of paradise, 

 The relentless hope he puts in himself, 

To prove himself worthy and excel, 

A sudden joy, a moment's sweet relief, 

A bitter truth, a sorrow, deep and grief. 

 With utter despair his hopes are shattered, 

Leaves him lost in a world that has scattered, 

 He promises himself to exit this viscous cycle, 

Yet finds himself trapped in the same old trial, 

Tears flow with nobody to share, 

The higher power has nothing left to spare 

 The cycle spins, again and yet again, 

A hand outstretched, a solace from the pain, 

 A guiding star, a hope to light the way, 

To lift his soul from darkness to the day. 

A form of communication gives hope, 

As the man finds the successful rope 

 This time he has tears to share, 

To one that actually cares 

By Parth Batra