Sifting

I watch sand run between my fingers,

Were two grains friends? Have I separated them for the rest of their 'life',

I don't want to be like the people who drive a wedge between two friends,

So I leave the firm white sand to its soon-to-be-eroded path,

White sky, white sea, white sun, white sand,

Like the institution I've just escaped from,

The sea-salt in the air is like the chemicals in the institution's air,

Sifting sand,

Sifting salt from sea-water,

Sifting tiny grains of happiness from my soul,

My blank white soul,

No happiness, no free-will,

Reigned in by media, religion, counsellors.

Why have they sifted my mind,

Of it's own independence,

And left me wandering the blank white shore of silence.

The End

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