As metaphorical papers pile up (on the computer),
something is amiss -
applications enter a black hole,
and are ushered away by a mysterious force,
never to be interacted with again.
Coffeeshops become the last refuge,
of a soul nearing its limits,
a place of caffeine
and music drifting throughout,
with a distasteful tendency towards pop.
Surely here more work can be done
but alas productivity is not to be
as the post-grad futility sets in
and the brain becomes dimly lit,
a flickering candle.
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