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Image for the poem Ground down(on their grindstone)

Ground down(on their grindstone)

After a long day of reports and emails
it's always funny how freedom smells.
After stepping out of my gilded cage
in front of a screen that fills me with rage
I can't help but to rejoice and be glad
for every sunset I've ever had.
It's odd that the old one's may be right
but nothing compares to nature and her light.
As I walk to my car,
looking into the sky's watercolored stars,
I can't help but to wonder,
if this is the cure for the spell I'm under.
Maybe I'll find out before youth has faded
what the open world has separated
from us in this unending material race
and those who enjoy the wind on their face.
Written by LongTubiFree (JustinSizemore)
Published
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