With hearts beating fast,
Mournful look on our face cast,
We join friends of our kind,
Who are in the same state of mind.
So much is the waiting,
Higher is the tension mounting,
As the clock slowly ticks away,
Secretly and silently we pray.
Yet a few try to be cheerful,
And encourage the sorrowful,
But anyway, all is the same,
For we know what’s the game!
Alas, when comes our turn,
From inside out we burn,
With trembling hands we sign our name
And somehow are ready to face shame or fame.
On the results day, such are the experiences,
Tears, sorrows, cries, and grievances,
Or Joys, happiness, fame and glory.
I wonder which of the either will be my story?
