Pristine

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The water before me is pristine, and beautiful,

The sand is soft under my feet,

The seagulls swoop low,

I watch them play amongst themselves,

Longing to feel as free as they do,

To live life in a way that fits,

In a way that is meant.

The seagulls know their purpose,

They understand their meaning,

They do not ponder endlessly over the right, and wrong,

They only live, they only fly,

To eat, and sleep,

To group, and pester.

Their purpose is clear,

Unlike those I find surrounding me,

How I long to scream until I can no longer.