Freezing Process - Quicksand

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 going so wrong

Process of depraving yourself

Of peace of mind