I have come to speak today,
in a rather crude way,
about the prestigious life
of a college Sophomore.
"The college experience," my parents would say
"is nothing but fun, day and day."
However, they'd never mention the bills I'd pay.
Writing poems and bullshit essays,
taking out loans which fester and rot
in the hopes of one day having the honor
of working a monotonous job,
marrying some hag,
and raising screaming children
who will do the very same.
What other options are available to me?
Nothing incredible, I decree.
Flipping greasy, processed burgers
and digging holes where the dead go to sleep.
That's not for me.
That's not what I want to be.
But to do anything else,
I must sit here.
Writing poems and bullshit essays.
Pretending I care.
Draining myself of dignity along the way.