Move Over, Mashed Potatoes (A Year in Busy College Schedules, a Euphemism to a "Full Plate")

I transferred colleges

That was fun

Except I stick out like a sore thumb

 

I came from an all girls school

With LGBT friends

And I can’t help it if I kind of picked up their trends

 

Everyone around me in my major

has been in it from the start

So getting in with a group is ripping into one

And possibly tearing them apart

 

I dine alone, which isn’t bad

It’d be better if the food was better

I suppose I might go sit with someone else

if I were a go-getter

 

My parents are convinced

That I live to ruin them

They think I’m too weird

And what I know will bore them

 

And they yell at me for stupid things

And it makes me scared to go home

Because I know my depression will flare up

And I’ll want to be alone

 

Which sucks because

At school, I’m alone

 

I love classes, though

Yeah. They’re great

Learning what makes Bach tick

And what music theorists hate

 

How to teach others to love

The music that I do

And how to make better friends

...I think I need to learn that lesson too

 

I work two jobs

Which is again, all right

But I’m drowning in fees and tuition

And it keeps me up all night

 

Which isn’t good, when I work six am shifts

But I guess it’ll do

Otherwise, I’m in deep shit

 

I guess you’d say

I have a lot on my plate

But there’s a lot of things

That I can now appreciate

 

Smelling like Mcdonald's fries instead of Sonic grease

Feeling better waking up and kind of feeling free

Enjoying time spent away from things that make me down

Feeling how hard it is to try and really frown

 

And the few friends I’ve made are great and good

And they make smile, like I should

And my family is okay, but they could use some work

But so could I, so I shouldn’t be a jerk

And school is great, for a Music Educator

I’m drowning in theory, but hey, what could be better?

 

My brain is full of composition

Of words to songs

I know where I’m going

And I know the path is long

 

My year has really been coffee stains and piles of shit

But I can make it work

And I can make it look good

And I won’t lose my grip

 

I will get through next year too

And it’s going to be hell

But, hey. What’s new?

 

New faces of course

Field experience for teaching

Time to get a hand out

To the students who are reaching

 

For someone to learn from

And I want to be that model

I want to have their ears

And their attention.

 

So I can tell them what I know

And teach them how to grow

And sure, that makes my plate more full,

But, hey! I’ll just move my mashed potatoes

Problem. Solved.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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