Dear Class of ‘24,

Is high school all you hoped for?

We expected to see familiar faces in unfamiliar rooms,

but smiles dissipate

when they are frowns trapped in plastic cubes.

But spring comes, and melts the snow.

From it, does normalcy grow? 

Now when unrest and tragedy are reality. 

Sadly, this is true.

Summer passes, like a comet in the sky.

Am I a meteorite? Will I fly?

Not until I see the sun,

blocked by all the papers

needing to get done.

Class of ‘24’, did you know 

that when autumn came, so would the “No’s”,

to your health and happiness, 

leisure and time,

to spend with those you love

wasted on a deadline?

You abide by what you’re told, 

“hard work, sacrifice.”

You’re still expected to play nice?

Winter is cruel, and it’s coming.

A time to do what you love, 

and less grinding. 

But, what’s the point?

Work comes like the mail. 

Why can’t the teachers

see that we swell 

under the pressure that one has

when you’re 15, and burnt out as hell?

Is there no sympathy for the living? 

No grieving for the missed

opportunities I could have experienced,

when work grew and grew like a cyst.

But here I sit, asking the impossible:

for my peers to comprehend the pain and 

high school experiences that are all too cruel.

But, hey, it’s better than middle school!