There’s a fight at graduation 

and the birds are stopping by.
I’ve survived initiation;
students leaving made me cry.
There’s a letter with a pride flag
on the desk no longer mine;
my friends smoke despite my nagging
and the peas are doing fine.
I’m taking shots and laughing
and I’m not dating a soul—
although the juniors asking
think my prank war had a goal.
I’m terrible at rhyming 
but the thing I know is true:
I will drive and sing and bake and love
in spite—because—of you.