In an age of commotion and seclusion,
Minds devolve into the dark.
Immature minds and their whims,
Extinguish what could have been a spark.

The cacophony of restless voices,
Speak to a mind not formed.
Amidst all hopes and betrayal,
Is a silent pain that comes uninformed.

It’s not a curse,
But a phrase you’d pass.
Things would eventually make more sense,
Even if you don’t sit in a class.

It is the patience you hold,
That would reward you.
Save you from regrets,
It would release you.

The cry of an unformed mind,
Is transient.
Seek answers and you shall find.