My Degree and Me

My degree hangs over me like a wrecking ball on a rusty chain,

The weight of old ambitions looming over my present reality.

What do you mean you want to change careers? Isn’t this what you wanted? You have a degree.

Yeah, about that. I guess my interests have changed.

 

My degree precedes me like some obnoxious herald,

Misinforming everyone as to what I know.

Hey, so I’ve got a problem with  _______. Can you tell me what’s wrong, since you have a degree?

You should probably Google it. That’s what I do.

 

My degree defines me like a cattle brand,

Limiting jobs to what I’m supposedly qualified for.

Why don’t you just find something else in your field? You still have a degree.

Which is all but useless for what I want to do now.

 

My degree follows me like a personal raincloud,

Dribbling expectations down my neck.

You’re doing what? Working where? But you have a degree!

Sure do. Me and everyone else.

 

My degree clings to me like a needy ex,

Sucking away my finances, my future, my fun.

Why don’t you just move on already? Start over with something new.

Easy for you to say. You’re not still paying for the bitch.

 

My degree stays with me like an aftertaste,

A little bitter, but mostly sour.

Go to school, they said. Get a good job, they said. You need a degree. Everyone’s doing it.

Heh. If I only knew then… but it’s too late now.

 

At least I’ll always have my degree.

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