Untitled

Thinking too much
About the days past;
Thinking about the
Things to come;
And it all weighs
Me down.
Leaving me sludging
About with
Twenty tons
Of muddy water.
Waiding in up to my neck
Letting the leeches
Take my studied
Patience
As air takes
Second place
To worry.

Author's Note

I don't know what to call this piece. Any suggestions?

Reviews

[Somewhere]

I like this alot....sounds like ... "Anxiety" might be a good title for it.

[The Message]

I like it, short and (not so) sweet. As for a title I'm not sure, my mind keeps going back to the words "Mire" and "Crossroad". Maybe something like, "The Crossroads Were A Mire", but I suppose that's a bit wordy.

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

Wow. This is a great peice. It is true that sometimes, for our own reasons, we kill ourselves with worry
when we could move on. Sometimes we need to just let go.