Wasted

Tall buildings, busy streets,

Sleeping on a mattress with stained sheets,

Creased shirts and formal shoes,

Empty pockets and Monday blues.

Long corridors and big halls,

Fifty-minute lectures and unattended calls,

Away from home, away from comfort,

This is life, unfair without the dirt.

Work and exams side by side,

Pending bills and you can't hide,

Breaking down, breaking bad,

Or building something?

That no one's ever had.

Missing friends, missing home,

After all this wealth, I stand alone,

But this is the dream that kept me awake,

This is the dream for which I kept everything else at stake.

How can it feel wrong?

How can it feel wasted?

This is what the world wanted,

After all this success,

Failure's what I've tasted.