It’s all brick, beige and dull greys,

With pavement, endangered lush,

Despair on corners, crept in smog,

Fading out the last of color.

It’s the same walls every day,

The same few sights to behold,

Same ground to step my drab shoes onto,

Over, and over, a_nd over and over…_

This routine is killing me;

I wish to witness, peer out,

Past the buildings and industries,

Embrace the vibrant settings around,

Hiding from me.

Pictures are the glass windows,

That allow me to notice what it’s like,

But leave me begging and starving,

Yearning for a taste I won’t have soon.

I wish to feel time slow itself,

And take a leisure stroll with me,

Helping me seek novel things,

Instead of torturing my sanity—

How boredom and incompetence rots me,

As It shields me from the new air,

Locks me away from new lives,

Leaves me feeling the same blues,

More desperate for a change.

A sin I cannot overcome,

A temptation I cannot resist,

Support I cannot reach,

As I lie buried in wanderlust.