Nine Weeks Poem by Casey Stewart

Because I don’t want to know that you are going
And I’m sick of ignoring the problem of absence
I’ll miss you so much and that truth burns
So just let me be so I can prepare
For nine weeks of hell and
63 days of isolation
Because friends aren’t always enough
We grow fonder, in rage
We grow fonder, in sorrow
We grow fonder from lust
Nine weeks of hell
And 63 days of isolation
Few days of joy within them
I want this to end
I want this to stop
But you must leave
And we must suffer
We grow older apart
And for now we are children, ignorant and oblivious
To the chore of true love,
And the respect of each other's maturity