Washed Clean

Pristine, pure and frigid streams,
Of change and stasis that seems -
To describe the life of reform,
That must now become my norm.

Early mornings no longer escape,
Attention through heavy drapes,
That hide the lights and sounds,
Of the fucking early birds that abound.

Jarring sounds of helpful devices,
Averting a near certain crisis,
As people scramble to be awake -
There's far too much at stake.

Waiting for the space to arise,
Where we can wash our sleepy eyes,
And trudge the long walk of shame;
Girls of yesteryear are to blame [1]

Hopeful looks at mechanical chariots,
Of fire and pistons for those who buy 'em,
And rush for the fast filling spots,
Except for the haves; the poor have nots.

Entry to the hallowed halls of learning -
Sitting with day dreams, so full o' yearning,
The fires of ambition constantly burning,
But the motivations are always churning.

And finally, being saved by the bell -
This place being a customised, individual hell;
But soon we'll be well qualified to sell
Our services, to save clients from their acts fell.

Innocence dies at the midnight hour,
As for means of intoxication we scour -
Taking sustenance for the coming day,
As the toll for all our tortured minds we pay.

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[1] - This is hearsay, but was also corroborated. I was told in my first year that the current boys hostel was originally meant to be the girl's hostel, but within a few months those stalwart ladies of yesteryear complained of 'creepy crawlies' and the distance, and the men were forced into a swap we're still cursing. This was corroborated by an old building plan that used to be lying around in the Common Room.

This is pretty much a Law School only thing, at least in my head. But I'm sure a lot of people feel the same way about college in general. What really surprises me is the creeping realisation that many years down the line I'll probably consider this the best time of my life.