Death of a Student

This isn't death of a family, no, there lacks a coffin and a body, but there still is a funeral.
Into the pit crashes all the sweat, tears, all the money wasted, all the pages elaborately falling thus creating a mountain of white.
Into the pit falls all the debt, all the loss, aspirations, dreams.

There is a rising.
Out from the depths of the grave rises the worries, the fear and sometimes even the glory.
A strike of happiness may cross the face from time to time, although it's overtaken by the other sinister aspects.
The idea of sale.
The constant need that plagues the mind, an ad spinning in the brain, its image SALE stamped across a naked body.
Could this be it?
Is this where all the corpses come to rot?

The silence.
A deafening blow approaches as the last item spirals into the pit.
There is no dust. No remains fly freely, all have been entombed.
This is the pit. This is the grave.
This is the end, or perhaps the beginning to a perilous climb.