Friday, 20 April 2012
05:40:59 PM (GMT)
Mechanical and natural,
It fuels us.
Hoping my lungs won't fail me,
Never wanting the monotony to cease.
A steadying breath.
Equalizing the chaotic melancholy.
I want it to stop.
My chest heaving outwards.
My diaphram collapsing.
It sounds like it should hurt.
I think about it. Every breath.
Makes taking the next one harder.
I want to keep thinking.
And yet, it's beautiful.
People believe that our breath is our soul.
Maybe this is why music can stir something deep within us?
But mainly, it is a burden.
Something I am too weak to carry.
But, if it's such labour to continue...
Why is it such hardship to stop?