In memory of period six

Why does this matter?
Fifteen more minutes
Gray numbers, robotic,
Besieging my brain.
I multiply my hopes by pi,
Press clear, and they all blink away.
Why does this matter?
Ten languid more minutes
Then I’ll ditch my empty cares
Vanished into plastic box
With click of an "off,"
Clear of a screen.
Why does this matter?
Five more meaningless minutes
Rigid conformity
Force fed with a purple marker,
From apathetic whiteboard
To unsuspecting brain.
Why does this matter?
One insipid more minute
Threatens my thoughts
With insidious vacuum,
But my mind has yet to cease its rain
Through life’s attempted droughts
And salvation bell rings
Cascade of omnipotent freedom.