Students take a university entrance examination at a lecture hall in the Andalusian capital of Seville

You’re going to fail

and we’ve always known.


We never talked letters or scores

but instead, for two short years played our roles.


Until once upon a time

you were sat in a hall


and as your eyes roamed the pages

you realised that the questions were like strangers.


Your answer sheet was curved, a paper bird

to be freed and not weighed down with words.


So you rested your pen for good,

in the canyon between two worried sheets


And then your table was still

until your eyes begged for help, as I walked past.


You stayed in that room for two full hours

watching the shadows fall and try to tease each blank page


But the blanks were brave and stubborn.

Like your future they were unwritten, undefined.


You were scared to leave –  so you stayed at your desk.

But who am I to judge, too scared to ever leave mine.



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