Graduation blues
By Andrew Garison
So, what comes next, once
You leave this place
Untethered from the safety
Of dorm rooms & deadlines
Early rising & drinking fines?
Four years slipped by
Right before your eyes
Just like they said it would
But you didn’t believe it, did you?
Better hope you made it count
Better hope you made
Something of yourself,
Otherwise what’s the point
Of all that debt?
Best not think about that now
More pressing matters are at hand
Gotta make something
Out of all that book learning
Lest you be doomed to
A 9-to-5; to become slave
To cubicles & W-2s,
Bosses orders,
Oh, what a snooze.
Now’s not the time to wallow
In those graduation blues,
Cycling through four years of regrets
Playing on repeat like
Pop songs at the supermarket.
Now comes the real test
The real fun, the make it
Or break it part
Where you find out
If it was really worth it after all.
So
What comes next?