The Final Level pt. 2

HSC, three little letters inspiring horror and fear,

13 years of schooling led to this, can’t believe it’s almost here,

Been ups and downs over the years, sometimes sun, sometimes rain,

Kinda fitting that the final level would dish out the most pain,

That workload ever-increasing, showing no signs of ceasing,

Low-key feeling the pressure from the relos to pass with flying colors, it’s boom or bust the way they’re talking about it,

Like it’s do or die, that a piece of paper determines one’s fate,

No wonder some check out early when they fail to make the grade,

Time to get serious, though, need to start thinking about life on the other side,

This here’s the training ground, Kid, out there it’s real life,

Uni, TAFE or the workforce, the choice is yours to make, better make moves now, they’ll soon push you out the gate,

But let’s get back to the tale, shall we? Still plenty to unpack here,

Never had true allies in this place, just some guys that knew your name,

And even then, within their circle, found yourself constantly on the outs,

Left you high and dry when jerks came knocking, seemed to join in the hazing and finger pointing, until eventually you were left deserted,  

No safety in numbers, going it alone has consequences, what’s a boy to do?

Here’s a taste of real life, Dude, fend for yourself, that’s what grown folks do,

Home remains where the heart is, but even solid foundations chip now and then,

Got too much on that plate to take notice, hopeful, somehow, the structure won’t go collapsin’.

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