To My Coy Admissions Officer

Had we but world enough and time,

This coyness, dear sir, were no crime.

We can sit down and be withdrawn,

From ideas my papers could spawn.

Thou shall be caught up in a whirl

Of people; And I by the Pearl

Of the Orient. But I have

Dreamed this  even before the Flood,

And you should, if you please, accept

Me even if I look inept.

My desires are like battleships

For acceptances and scholarships.

Hundred years gone to Common App,

Information and essays unwrapped;

Four hundred for thine supplements,

And twenty-four hundred for tests,

For one deposit to invest.

And the last letter should say yes.

For, dear sir, you deserve this state.

Though I’d love a really nice rest.


But at my back I always hear

Deadline’s Uber hurrying near;

And yonder all before us ride

Deserts of vast eternity.

Thy opinion shall not be cared,

Nor your videos that I beared

For ages: now the views will abstain

And also downvoted again.

And your quaint honor turn to dust,

And into ashes all my lust:

Internet’s a place to display,

But no one, I think, will get paid.

Now therefore, since it is unread,

Swift the document through your head,

Before you witness my greatness,

Or reject me with some vagueness,

Beware that thy brain is controlled,

As my essay breaks thy threshold,

Now, let’s begin a game of catch,

Rather at once we can Skype,

Than what the papers would provide.

Let us see my potentials and all

My glory in just a brief call,

And maybe get rid of thy strive.

Thorough the iron gates of life:

Thus, though we cannot make our sun

Stand still, yet we will make him run.


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