I finally have caught up.
I should be feeling free.
All I'm thinking about is
my next responsibility.
The chaos makes
no room for tranquility.
The only successful approach to academics is with hostility.
Completion,
it feels like it has no possibility.
The assignments and demands
are endless.
There's too little time
and too many resources to access.
I sit and stare at a screen and
my mind sees no
clear purpose or process.
No matter how many hours I put in
I feel like I make no progress.
My blood is constantly boiling
from the stress.
Yet I always pull assignments
out of my ass with finesse.
What can I say, I'm just another formerly gifted burnt out mess.
It's hard to be this great.
Yet I still can't believe
I'm about to graduate.
I'm anxiously awaiting the date,
hardly able to wait.
Yesterday I was eight,
and my name was Kate.
Today adulthood should be my brand new and fresh slate,
but all I can approach adulthood with is hate.
YOU ARE READING
blooms
Randomblooms is in reference to the flowers that bloom on the field that is my mind, to create poetry.
