Trying to walk away, but I'm motionless.

Struggling to break free from the source.

You're restraining me with gripping bondage,

and I can't escape the powerful force.

I feel so weak; I can't find the strength

to lift one foot in front of the other.

Each step I take is such a small length,

that the effort seems too great to bother.

I feel like I am walking in place

or going down on an up elevator.

I'm going the wrong way in a race,

or going up on the down escalator.

I need air. Let me go. Set my soul free.

My legs are like lead, it's hard to stand.

I'm sinking. I am tired. I can't breathe.

It's like living in deadly quicksand.

Copyright ©2006 Rose Mary West Ekerholm AKA Plethora