twas the morn' of camp's ending,
not a human awake.
i rushed back to seletar,
already late.

k that's it. too lazy to continue with the poem.
was scorched by the sun, drenched by monsoon, deprived of sleep, deprived of camp, my phone conveniently died on me. in times like these, nothing lifts your spirits as much as SMS's from 2 best friends encouraging you. (thank God the messages came before my phone died). qianjin, matthew; thank you. (: