free write poem

There is a thing called free write, a stressful exercise
You are the grand prize winner of headaches and hand cramps

The stress starts about thirty seconds in
When you run out of things to write
Then the pain kicks in
Only a little, nothing more

One minute in and your mind will wander
You get back on track, not for long
More pain comes your way
This time it’s not just a little tap

One minute thirty seconds you’re repeating one line
‘I can’t think of anything’
The pain is always there now and one more line
‘Make it stop’

Two minutes in your mind starts to weaken
Running out of paper and hand coordination
The burning and the ache are stronger now
Your writing is unreadable even to you

Two and a half minutes and the teacher calls thirty seconds to go
Your mushy brain is relieved and still writing one sentence
Your hands are throwing a fit and screaming at you to stop
But you can’t until the teacher allows the torture to end

Stop, the teacher calls. Relief is swept around the room
Yes people I timed her, three minutes is what I counted though I my have lost track
The rapid hand stops and the intense pain turns into a dull thudding ache
You relax momentarily, weary hands needing the break

“Round 2!” the teacher yells
Back to the headaches and back to the pain
Only we predict the second round will be worse
We were not mistaken