Its about that time of hour.
The kind that lasts the length of a childhood,
Subtract the number of clueless teenage years.
To then be left on the empty plate of a University student, such as myself,
who has a proclivity to be quite picky when it comes to what is ingested.
And finally, before stepping across the stage towards what has previously
been etched out by life, be suffocated in a simple, indebted cardboard box.
Can we, please? Just take a moment of silence.
So we can hear the dying breaths of my dream.