In shadows of intelligence, a young man stood,
His mind ablaze, his spirit pure and good.
A brilliant flame, a flicker of creativity,
But society's pressure whispered for conformity.

With dreams of literature and arts so fine,
He yearned to let his creativity truly shine.
But the world, in its wisdom, had other plans,
Forcing the young man into law's demanding hands.

Intelligence, once celebrated and revered,
Now trapped in a path that left his spirit seared.
For what is brilliance without passion's flame?
A hollow existence, a life without aim.

With each day passing, his soul grew weary,
As depression's grip tightened, swift and dreary.
The halls of academia turned cold and gray,
As his vibrant thoughts slowly faded away.

The weight of expectations crushed his dreams,
A scintilla of dulled lights, or so it seems.
For intelligence alone cannot cure the heart, When a passion lies buried, torn apart.

Oh, what anguish for a spirit so bright,
To be confined to a path that feels so trite.
But in the depths of his despair, a truth did gleam,
Intelligence can be a trap, a silent scream.

For true brilliance lies in the song of the soul,
In pursuing what sets our hearts on a roll.
The world may dictate, with its judgment and gaze,
But our own passions should guide, in a mystical haze.

May you learn from the young man's plight,
To follow your heart, no matter how contrite.
For intelligence is but a tool, a vessel to explore,
And without the fire of passion, it leaves us wanting more,

May we celebrate the beauty of the mind, But not at the expense of leaving hearts behind.
May we find our true purpose, our passions ignite,
And break free from intelligence's deceptive plight.