The banging sound

Is like numerous hammers pounding on the wall

Or loud music, with digitized rhythms and lyrics,

convulsing through my body; as if it were a

hollow tree trunk

My hand stretches

Towards the woods’ etches

Of trees

With leaves

Rough, brown bark

With curved marks

Formed a throne

I sit firmly like a cone

Sunlights flood

Like browned mud

Through the shade

The trees made

My feet stride

Forward; I ride

Through the black, gravel path

Wet puddles drawn like a bath

A dull, yellow shed

Stands on the path led

Its wood is splintery

As if it lived many years through history

I walk down

The black, gravel path wounds

I walk towards home

Everyone is lazy

They can't see past the hazy

Cloud, smoke covering them thickly

Into an irrational being that is sickly

A being; paled white

Diseased and losing sight

"I'll put this off for another day," they say

Refusal is where the insanity lay

Refusal to work is sad

Later, you'd wish you had

What must be done

About these needles that are spun?

Needles that prick, needles that bury

Metallic refusal that's in a hurry

The metal clangs

Through the mind; its point hangs

Sharp like a sword

Cutting through the cord

Stop, and think

Let the logic sink

Down through the waves

Your mind saves

A blue light flashes

Through the night's lashes

You're puffing gray smoke

The wind's coldness; it will soak

Your hands are weary; stiffened from the rails

Of the plow; you look past the sky's icy hails

"I should do this now."

"I should do my work"; these thoughts are ready to plow

Through Life; scraping off its muddy paths

Save yourself from bad aftermaths

The mud coats the icy ground

Making the path smoother and browned

I say again, stop and think

Let the logic sink

Down through the waves

Your mind saves

Freedom is a rectangle

The lines joined through an even angle

Lush grass fills

This rectangle; like sloped hills

Hills with grass

That will forever last

The running of feet is sounding

To any place, the feet are bounding

A wolf roams

Through the field; to its cavern homes

A store with glowing lights

Is set in our sights

Cereal boxes, toys, and games

Are free, says the claims

Items can be purchased

At anyone's expense; free service

Bought by the wealthy

Independence is healthy

My back relaxes against the leather

Of the car seat; enveloped by warm weather

The tires squeal; squeal through the street, the driveway

"I'm free to do whatever I want!" I say

Freedom's sister is Independence; her parents Willingness and Creativity

Her child? Self-responsibility