All-Nighter Freedom

Wed, 01/18/2017 - 01:35 -- ezmay15

In late nights, through

bleary eyes and trembling hands

I find freedom.


The looming grade lost 

its gravity long ago, along with

junior year.


Without letters or one-hundreds,

work is fueled by rocket engines

of pure focus.


To students filling late nights

with cosmic notions, and ever-newer

knowledge, still:


When the packet ahead of you

has become a black hole

slowing time,


And the lamp beside you

a gleaming star of

misplaced energy,


And the entire universe

is you sitting at your

weathered desk—


Everything within reach,

no one can stop you from 

3AM freedom.

This poem is about: 
My community


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