By Aidan Moloney
Unfolding reluctantly from the warm chrysalis of oblivion,
We submissively wade through the ocean of lethargy.
Desperately holding our chins above the waterline
As deadlines grasp at our frantic limbs
To submerge us
Our already thundering minds are stabbed
With careless, normalised ridicules.
Though indirect and trivial,
The trembling walls of our mentality are cruelly chiselled at.
Toughened, but frighteningly brittle.
The blinded spend years constructing their persona,
An ego-fuelled puppet standing nervously
On a seemingly immovable pedestal,
Held in place by the scholastic hierarchy
Which only disintegrates into scattered fragments, lost on the fiery surface
Of the real world we are taught to fear but not tackle.
The end of the week consumes us,
Like the very deluge of work we are being relieved of.
Waiting on messages that will not arrive,
Craving the reassuring hum of laughter within the walls of a classroom.
We lie empty, dependent on the approaching Monday.
Soon the Sunday blues will not be partnered
By the routine cobalt lockers.
A day of celebration for most, the eventual relief
A night of existential realisation for some.
The protective armour of compulsory procedure has vanished.
Rescue from isolation is no longer guaranteed.
