No desks, no grades, no morning bell,
Just time, and truth, and days that swell.
No one says when class begins,
You only know it by your sins.
No classroom walls, no final test,
Yet life has taught me all the rest,
That every joy, and every scar,
Is what makes one who they are.
The kind ones gave me hands to hold,
The cruel ones carved me, sharp and bold,
Each face, a chapter, joy or ache,
All mattered, none were a mistake.
The lessons come, then come again,
In softer sun or harder rain.
And if I dodge or look away,
They circle back another day.
Grief doesn't steal; it redefines,
It draws the lines between the lines,
It clears the noise, it strips the show,
And leaves behind what you must know.
You never graduate from this.
This life, this hurt, this fleeting bliss.
You learn it all while living through,
The test is living, learning too.
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