The snail strolls gently
Realigning hoped moments
A slow pace of consequences
****** and placed on tables
Harped to melodic tunes
Summed in upbeat sequences
The crescendo boils to ******
The climb of beats and undertones
All exposed and overlooked
The onlookers astonished
My ribs pinned out in pain
I squeeze to the cracks of normality
Attempting to slowly leap
To see the darkness of winter
To breath the stilled air
Yet, a hope lived, a life seen
We all shall make it to the end
Crawling to cut the finish line
Life seems slow but with minimal leaps. We shall all see the finish line. The aspect of living a "normal" life pain my ribs; up to the point the onlookers are astonished. We are all heading to the finish line, some things have to be embraced! But do we have to?
