Thinking is like breathing—
involuntarily done, unrelenting.
In a state of panic
with the mind so manic;
wishing you could stop
hearing your own heart—
beating, ticking like a clock.
Sweating palms,
fidgeting legs,
having your own self to beg
your own mind:
to rest, to let go,
to calm down, and let it flow.
But then again,
thinking is like breathing—
a second nature, unending.
-fin-
(featured image: favim.com)
Pessimistic Reveries 