By Hina Gupta
Photo courtesy of blog.lib.umn.edu/
The semester is coming to an end,
You can’t get rid of your boyfriend
Because he got rid of you
Your grades sing DDDF
You got stabbed in the back
You just found out that this winter is going to be colder than the last
You weren’t able to register for any of your desired class times
You wanted for next semester
You got up in the morning
Dazed and confused
And headed to your next class
Finding that hope is not following your side
Trust has been broken left and right
And you can’t find yourself
Somehow, you find yourself still alive
Maybe not happy about it, but you are.
But you didn’t give up hope for finding hope
And you get up the next morning
Knowing that there is nothing left to do but push harder
Because with every stride
You have less to carry on your back.
That added a heavy rock to the bag on your back full of books
But you carried that bag
To every 8 A.M. class
And sat through every one three hours long
You grades may sing,
But you learned to sing, as a result of your sorrow
Your next semester you get up for your 8 a.m. class
And that same bag isn’t that heavy anymore
Because you learned how to carry it with pride
Your grades sing CCCF
Along with an A for effort.
The Spread 