The poem I read at a graduation celebration for my high school |
**NOTE: This is a piece written to be preformed, so there isn't an exact flow or form to it. Song of the Graduate We sang in shades of purple, Deep nighttime hues that transformed us, Now GHS is over and I find myself looking back, At tattered remnants of purple songs hanging, Silent and dying, From burnt sienna walls and abandoned courtyards, To the face of the bulldog and the coat of arms, Our alma mater’s song staining the gaping arch, Like broken promises for broken hearts, The idea of pride stained with worn out lies, Faced desperately trying to hide, As we wonder why we aren’t alive, Now purple rain tasting like tears, Drip-Drops like drum rolls from overhanging eaves, Gutters clogged with rotten leaves, As pale faces crowd windows, Salty rain falling from their eyes, They steam the windows from the inside, Angry purple storms that cannot fly, Blood washes against our back steps, And drips down the hallway like an exodus of life, Left to die in quiet stairways, No more purple and white days, Every day is brown and grey, Every color mixed together, Call it a mixing pot, call it whatever, There is no individuality when everyone, Becomes a singular anonymous person, We sang in shades of purple, Walking through schoolroom blues, We walked with a purpose, Through the hallways to the streets, We had many questions, Like children often do, And asked, Where has all the dignity gone? Has it gone very far? Why are things the way they are? But our questions echoed off purple eaves, And whispered through silent streets, And died in puddles of tarnished demise, As purple tears fell from white washed eyes, And raindrops showered on marble stairs, On a brand new building that’s hardly there, No spirit days could change reality, Our school is locked in brown fatality, So we sang in shades of purple, And laughed in shades of white, Our pride shaped like a bulldog, That era ends tonight, RIP GHS |