The Spread

Dooms End: Semester Edition

By Hina Gupta

finals

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.

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