How I love to see sun rise,
Clearing the whole landscape!
How I hate to see fog rise,
Covering the clear landscape!

Should I be a loaf of bread,
Baked with the same brand;
Uniform in every way,
With no difference anyway?

Brainwashed in every class
To see through the same glass,
Supposed to go ‘n the shadowy lane,
Where ghostly figures reign.

When you set a bud in a cover,
Will it grow with healthy glamour?
Place it under sun’s luster,
It’ll bloom with flaming ardor.

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Adolescent thoughts.