When Seeds Break Before Spring
Why do you push your fruit before it’s ripe?
Why rush the seed before its season comes?
Is it pride, pressure, or petty rivalry with peers?
Merely because you want the world to watch?
You forget: every mind grows at its own pace.
Not all seeds sprout under the same sun.
Yet you drag delicate roots to distant heights,
Then wonder why the weary plant begins to bend.
Some leapt classes they should have stayed in,
From SS1 straight into final exams.
Some never navigated the narrow road of school,
Yet miracle mentors marched them magically through.
Their results shine like borrowed clothes,
Fine to see, but never their size.
At university, truth calls their names,
And silence shouts where knowledge should speak.
Confused, they turn to noise on campus:
Yahoo youths, cult chants, careless craze,
slay queens, sneaky schemes, scholars’ specs.
They chase comfort to cover classroom cracks,
Turning tidy halls into tempting playgrounds.
Grades they cannot defend become burdens,
Frustration lives with them in tall towers.
What you called help becomes quiet harm,
A future cracked by early pressure.
Let fruit ripen before it is picked.
Let roots grow deep before they rise.
Guide them with truth, not shortcuts,
So their lives stand firm when storms arrive
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