No returns
I am birthed,
Conscious of
my magnificence
And hence
Immune
To coddling;
Shrieking my resistance;
Weaned from the need
For your approval
Indignant
In my refusal
To accept less.
And so it continues
Through graduation
New situations
Tackled at my
Invincible best.
Until hark!
It concludes
And the ringing
in my ears
Is understood
As the alarm
Of failing systems.
I don’t want to seem rude
Ungrateful
Or even too concerned.
Surely the design
Could be better?
But in real life it seems
There are no returns.