The graduation feast

Lipstick smiles and non-existent hats:
pride rises like steam from temperamental heads.

Fountains of champagne, air of hurrays:
we tread on, until resumes block our ways.

A sloth's trait it is, waiting for life's cue,
for numb minds que until the deadline is due.

With certs in our hands, we're ready to conquer
underdosed dreams which GPAs won't cure.

So rise high, devour plight, finish the meal;
we swallowed university to avoid the devil's deal.

11/12/16
4:34pm