Plight of a Poet

“You’ve got a college degree? What are you doing here?”
There was so much potential. What a shame.
The chance to fly, and to greatness be near.
Oh, but I did fly, just not how they wanted.

“You can always be better,”
Words hammered into my brain,
So to school I went—the best I could find.
Spent over a fortune, was left with a dime.

How they wished for a doctor, lawyer, engineer—
The noble pursuits, ways to keep the wheel turning,
But they instead got a poet, an engineer of the mind;
A soul of content over money or want.

What am I doing with my college degree?
Years of lab work, research, and papers alike
Lie on the floor, dust collecting like snow, while
I pour my heart onto paper by the open window.