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Poem: The Open Form

“Those Four Years”

By Daniela AnmenPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
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Poem: The Open Form
Photo by Charles DeLoye on Unsplash

Soon I’ll be walking to receive an award that commemorates four years of hard work,

Four years what soon, sadly, will mean nothing to me,

But to them it seems to mean I’ll find a purpose,

While I know it just means I spent four years stressing over a piece of paper.

I did enjoy my time here, I did smile amongst the pain,

But it was forced on me with no real goal at the end of line.

I fear that someone will say that it was for nothing,

That I have fail to bring glory to my immigrant surname.

I’m allowed to be distant these days, the ceremony approaches,

And I have yet to make my mind about what I will do when I step down with that shiny paper,

Still lost in the realm of adulthood that I am expected to understand,

Yet I feel like they are too as they seek something in me they fail to find in themselves.

A puppet, that’s what it seems I’ve been for those four years,

My promised success disguised in amber while it had been just coal.

The moment I grab that paper I will smile the fakest yet brightest smile,

But I cannot ignore that amongst my bitter thoughts I find relief, because, damn, I made it.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Daniela Anmen

Brand new adult. You'll read my thoughts through my shabby writing. It’s pretty random.

*My first novel, “Dreams of Dawn” is currently available on Kindle.

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