The world is a cruel place.
Where a mistake could mean the end.
And an accident, the begining.
Where the claws of society will hold you tight,
Molding you into what they need.
Only a few escape their powerful grip.
Becoming whom they want.
Doing how they please.
These few take the chances and resist.
As they slip through the fingers, they mold themselves.
Choosing to be anything they prefer.
They are the ones who shall rise above the rest.
Turning into the best of the best.
Inspiring others to be like them.
But unwillingly, the claws come again.
The old, ideal mold, becomes used by just a few,
And the new one takes its place, molding and remolding.
Old and new.
It happens without us seeing,
The claws never go away.
They just choose a new mold each and everyday.
Some stand by watching,
Waiting for the change,
Thinking to themselves,
Many things at once, but one thought by itself.
The world is a cruel place, like nothing else.
