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.