These four white walls rarely see the sunrise
And I share with them that common bout. 
My white coat hangs low on the edge of my bed.
I was robbed by what medicine is all about. 

I’ve been friends with the moon for four whole years.
Countless cups on my kitchen sink. 
I woke up early; I went home late
And I barely had enough time to think. 

I have a degree, my dreams are big.
I was made to save people’s lives. 
I write the prescription; I go the extra mile
Just to save someone’s father, mother, or wife. 

Yet I cannot  treat myself, treat my broken hopes,
I looked forward to so much more. 
I thought about all the years I spent, the lives I could’ve lived,
While I burnt myself to the core. 

While I burnt myself to the core. 
A light, a scalpel, a finger or two. 
An organ, some pasta, and a little IV. 
A diploma, a degree, and a Med-iocre me. 

-Allyah Jenris Allam

(Illustration by Toni Miguela Ursua/FEU Advocate)