Taken to the brink of something
Something, but we can’t know what
To wait, to want, it’s so bad, and,
try something, and,
moving to slow,
to get where you want to go
Looking for results,
you can’t begin, to,
find a way out from the cold,
place you’re in

But it suits you,
your condition
Symptoms that keep you in,
keep you from motion
Until it’s cold,
slowing you down,
until you can’t go

Taken by something,
but you can’t hold on to it,
you can’t
It slips through your fingers,
slips through your hand
Because they’re too cold,
can’t get a grip,
on what’s in your sight
It’s like getting old
It’s like getting told, to, sit, still

But it suits you,
your condition
Symptoms that keep you in,
keep you from motion
Until it’s cold,
slowing you down,
until you can’t go

It’s not me
Is there something,
so wrong
Process of depraving yourself,
of peace of mind