Despite a dozen outstretched lawns and bronze open gates,
I am still confined in the tertiary prism of norm.
It felt wrong to be here ever since move-in day,
But they assigned me work the next before instinct can form.
Mom said to come here, Dad too, and so did the neighbors,
All explaining that this is where the youngling belongs.
Though the elders don’t actually look quite happy either,
Shouldn’t their advice have helped their wrong?

This is a perfect place, this sadhouse, for them to steal you:
You’re away from home and vulnerable, memorizing things new,
And thanks to your drunk peers, only ever hear English slurred.
By graduation, your individual is trapped in time to join the herd.
My dorm room lullaby is the patterned song of my neighbor’s thrusts.
And the student clubs are filled with weird people who say the obvious.
Some would kill to be here, rather than be imprisoned or displaced,
And my problems are first world, but they’re still world.

I eat at the dining hall alone, pretending to listen to music
As I lean in, desperate to hear what a conversation sounds like.
These nights hurt and I pick up a guitar to try and muse it,
But my professor just assigned 150 pgs. about the source of light.
Oh Mama, I’m dulled – they got me, but you want me here.
Every day’s the same, the only difference is it gets worse.
They give us everything: merit, resume fillers, sex, and beer,
But I just want to suffer again back on earth.

Is it “dropping out” or more like preparing for a dive?
If I stay any longer, am I murdering the prize?
They say the quitters who leave won’t keep up,
But those who have stayed don’t seem to leap up.
It kills me more and more—can the government ban it?
If I take it to court, would I be debating to granite?
They say you’re always at the place you need to be.
But perhaps it’s not so that we go to stay, but see to leave.

And then one day, I went to the rooftop and covered my ears.
I thought my own thoughts, for once, to see my life in birdseye.
Hi. Hello there.
This feels good. I know, right?
How is it that I have absolutely no one? I don’t know.
Afterwards, they won’t miss me. That’s a fact.
Why can’t I just be ten years old again? You have to grow.
Are these thoughts forever? They don’t subtract.
I’ll never be happy, I’ll only be lying. Bullshit or bullseye? Haha. Haha.