Slowly onto a stranger's embrace.
The first emotional expression to the very present mood,
All I know is how merciless the hands of the clock can be,
Not sparing a second to waste.
Little boy crawled to stand,
Falls and failures like the sand,
All shaped by thy guardians' hand,
Sometimes stolen and left mighty to stand,
Not a single being would ever understand,
How things had gotten so out of hand.
As cells grow and degenerate,
Memories are still to be kept,
Like a process of evolution,
Only the strongest survives and adheres,
To our very own present and future,
Tormented or blessed, it's in our minds,
Naturally or forcefully never fights,
As gradually everything goes automatically,
into a trance of silent oblivion,
which may creep up to us quietly,
like a prey stalked by a lion,
But no scars or damage are to be witnessed,
when it ambushes,
as severity depends on how the oblivious it can be.
Written by
Kevin Tang Hoi Mun
2012/4/22
