Strangled by a concrete noose.
Tears from the agony staining my lungs.
Living this way is strange.
Living our lives according to the arm on a clock,
And it isn’t even perfect.
Forced out of the ocean,
And made to roam a block.
Our feet! Made to be loose
Made to sprint through a forest,
But now restricted by a mutual truce.
Made to step on a thorn,
And die!
But an honest death compared to the current.
Our brains!
Designed to flourish
A refreshed mind, eats the soul like a breath of fresh air.
But now restricted by a rainy day puzzle.