They say mind over matter,
But sometimes the sadness is so heavy.
Pushing down on your vibrant vibrations,
And making a small tingle feel like a burn sent from hell.
It is too heavy and as if,
It cradles you, reassuring of how much of your sanity it really carries.
You’re scared to fall,
So you sit still and wait.
Sinking in, down to the depths of you that were unforeseen and
through you in every direction, it is now the one sitting still.
Leaving you with the doubt of ever getting your seat back,
The seat of mental control.
It rocks you, back and forth,
Somewhat of a wooden pendulum, soft with yet rough creaks.
For your time is almost, to the nearest end, over.
Jan 11, 2020
Jan 11, 2020 at 11:31 PM UTC
They say mind over matter,
But sometimes the sadness is so heavy.
Pushing down on your vibrant vibrations,
And making a small tingle feel like a burn sent from hell.
It is too heavy and as if,
It cradles you, reassuring of how much of your sanity it really carries.
You’re scared to fall,
So you sit still and wait.
Sinking in, down to the depths of you that were unforeseen and
through you in every direction, it is now the one sitting still.
Leaving you with the doubt of ever getting your seat back,
The seat of mental control.
It rocks you, back and forth,
Somewhat of a wooden pendulum, soft with yet rough creaks.
For your time is almost, to the nearest end, over.
