Changes are imminent, no one has the resistance,
all we learn, is to endure pains without pain.
Imminent are the changes, resisting the dreams of everyone,
all you did learn, is to forget the unforgettables.
So, dead are our imaginations, mum are our curiosities,
our precious, are all to be discarded.
Wisdoms are to be replaced, happiness is getting precious,
memories are meant to be memories, merely.
Our ancient appetite forgotten, knowledge to be put aside,
wonders and marvels turned into miracles.
One's born a piece of sheet, ductile and malleable,
Years after years, it grows to be a self.
This self then, is kept on a shelf,
only to be searched for by yourself.
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