I don't want
To be stuck
In one of those cubicles
Taking mindless calls
Selling insurance
Just because
I grew up in this town
Doesn't mean
I want to die in this town
I don't want
The same job
As everyone else
The one
School pressures me to take
I don't want
To stare at three white walls
With maybe just a single plant to liven things up
I don't want to be the kind of worker
With no life in her eyes
I don't want to wear
The same red shirt
And khakis
As everyone else
I want to
Break free
Of this cubicle obsessed town
I want to be
Different
I want to
Leave
YOU ARE READING
Leaving Behind the Endless Fields of Corn and Soybeans
PoetryEveryone has that one place in their heart. The two will always be connected, whether they love that place, or hate that place. My place? My town? I love it, I hate it. I've left it behind. This collection of poetry is about the place, the town, tha...
