What the Future Holds

Shadows, tired eyes.  

Kettle whistling. Here I am. 

Sitting on the couch, awaiting my fate. 

Scared, and hands trembling. 

Hands crawl towards the torn-open envelope. 

Unfolding ever so slightly the first of many. 

The first of a series of painful reminders.  

The dollar sign. 

Amount due. Might as well be a second rent. 

I welcome my payment to a ruined. 

Ruinous second life of paying off my debt. 

I just wanted to go to a place

where I could feel alive. 

I didn't understand how much of a burden, 

A costly expedition into the unknown. 

Tied up my laces and packed up a few months ago. 

Wanting to go to medical school, 

Now not so sure. 

The bright white doctor's coat in the future

Turning black in the course of a few seconds. 

I held that loan payment

And I resisted the urge to rip it, 

Tear it, pull it apart. 

Because it would tear my future apart. 

This is it, I think. 

For me, it's a lifetime of struggles. 

Press my palms together, 

Take a few deep breaths, 

Anxious about the future. 

"It's not your fault". 

It's not my fault, 

I repeat. 

Over and over. 


Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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