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What If?Look at all the graduates
Facing the future with heads high
They know who they’ll be in life
Certainly they can easily get by
But what if you’re not as good as them?
What if you must stay behind?
What if your friends all leave you,
While as an undergrad, you are confined?
Look at all the adults
Seizing their independence
They know what they’re doing in life
Limits dashed by their transcendence
But what if you’re just a failure?
What if you’re crushed by responsibility?
What if you can’t make it on your own,
Chained by your mocking futility?
Look at all the new students
Beginning their Master’s degree
They know when they’ll live their lives
And soon they’ll all be free
But what if they don’t accept you?
What if they don’t like your grades?
What if this isn’t even the right pursuit;
It feels more like a game of charades…
Look at all the workers
They found the perfect career
They know where
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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