This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at MSU chapter.
Dreams like anthills Â
There’s all too many Â
But even with the clutter Â
New hills begin to form Â
Hopes build up so fast Â
Anthills appear in the cracks Â
Mounds are fresh Â
Dreams are promising Â
Hills so close  Â
We want it so bad Â
But we’re blinded by hope Â
The mounds are gone Â
Sidewalks streaked with dirt Â
Dreams have faded Â
Pillows catching tears Â
Jagged red writing across my skin