Poem of "The Mataphor"

You are a cake,

beautiful and sweet.

As a young children,

the cake is fantastic.

You are a good dream,

which I have at night.

As a young girl,

it makes me smile.

But when I grow up,

I am puzzled

Someone hates the cake.

It is too sweet.

Someone hates the dream.

It is too happy.

The cake is put into shelf.

     The dream become a nightmare.

Someday, the cake disappear.

Someday, the dream never turn up.

Someday, I become a lonely person,

who is always cry near the grave.