The Men Who Are Sheep
All their lives they follow blindly,
Complaining, but not worrying
Who's leading, just going kindly
Into that deep darkness fleeing.
Like little sheep they just give in,
To the thing chasing them around,
If they would try they just might win,
They just let it run them aground.
Why do they ever leave their homes?
Into the world, cold and unknown,
Imagination never roams,
And all do heave an endless groan.
(this poem doesn't flow at all. I can't figure out why..
)
