The Daily Grind

We’ve all been here before,

The door is closed to the things that are bad to us,

Let this be a example,

I took the first bus away from my broken heart that was trampled on,

Never realizing I was going away from a part of me.

The door is the daily grind of life,

Everything that causes strife enough to close our doors,

The wound that turned to a sore,

And every sore it callouses and hardens,

Against all the things that draw you back.

The sack of burdens you drag, as every day goes by.

All those shores of the past, that left you going away with a cast,

All those people you label as an outcast.

It cripples our creativity,

And grows our negativity instead, Like pale skin across a dead man.

We kick the can and move on, Waiting for a clan that fits our description,

But in the end wearing a mask, Finding a task,

Like a certain seashell on a empty beach,

When we find one that doesn’t fit the one we want,

We throw it away with a nonchalant embrace, Without a trace.

Then when we pick up the “right one”,

We close the doors to all the other ones.

Because the daily grind, is the only shells we find.

We are looking for the norm not the storms that make life shake,

We have to break the door in order to open our minds,

And open up the blinds of your house to let it all in,

Then we might find something, If we sleuth the pursuit of-

What isn’t the daily grind.
The truth isn't the daily grind.