Who Are they?
Wonders, or walking living machines?
They sleep in a cradle, fed on their mothering arms
Growing up desensitised with fictitious joy
There they open their arms and glide.
Their eyes gaze on the synthetic flashy lights
Where their thoughts have been?
I wonder when, they will wake or reborn
In this wonderful realm, where people, express, create
and through symbiotic relations.
Whether they see light or, just hardens to latter shatter as glass
Whether they are light as feather or, become their own burden to bear
Or flexible as the wind, that always can be switched.
How to see when you are taught to become blind?
How to surrender when they don’t know who they truly are?
Why confine themselves with a metal wall?
Vaguely they slide on day dreams
Vaguely they say, I know
Vaguely their object of affection pass by them
They rise above the hazy clouds, a new day starts
Where they surrender to who they truly are.
What they taught was a breakdown was just a breakthrough.