On a bench at 10:00 a.m.,
Isolated, whilst surrounded by them.
The professor delivering her well versed speech,
Which my ears refuse to reach.
She drawls on and on.
I would much rather sit here feeling torn.
Thinking of a future that is so uncertain,
Making my head ache with all the questions.
The future that fills me with anxiety
Is looming over me,
Mirroring the clouds that hide the sun.
What is my life going to become?
The question that will be bring me to my end,
Frantically looking for the sign that was not sent
By entities that should bring me hope
While I hold on to the rope.