Freeness fields

Skies the side of the worlds view
All the fields are hued with blue
Free from torment in the hinds eye
The threat that someday everything will die
And become imperfect, not simple and a life
Final minutes and the world is too scared
To live on its own and be itself
So trapped in space and fads
So far gone from moms and dads
That the eyes that see are the blind
And the free are the deaf who hear
What we see and hear is a facade
What we live is fear
From the circles of life
The part where the puzzle piece fits
And you aren't home
In what is portrayed as our needs
Not free like the fields where some plant their seeds