It's difficult to slow down when your body's used to constant movement.
Speeding up takes less than slowing down.
But you try, oh God, how you try.
You tentatively take a deep, shuddering breath and suddenly you're spiralling
out of control.
Down you go, into the deepest depths of your soul.
All because you stopped to breathe.
When breathing leads to this, who would want to breathe?
Instead, you force your way ahead, not daring to look back or even around.
Eyes glued to the horizon,
you don't stumble or falter.
Roses race past in a blur of red and white.
Barely recognizable, how could you think to
stop and smell?
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 8:42 PM UTC
It's difficult to slow down when your body's used to constant movement.
Speeding up takes less than slowing down.
But you try, oh God, how you try.
You tentatively take a deep, shuddering breath and suddenly you're spiralling
out of control.
Down you go, into the deepest depths of your soul.
All because you stopped to breathe.
When breathing leads to this, who would want to breathe?
Instead, you force your way ahead, not daring to look back or even around.
Eyes glued to the horizon,
you don't stumble or falter.
Roses race past in a blur of red and white.
Barely recognizable, how could you think to
stop and smell?