The Words I Will Speak

Rhythms

I've fallen into a rhythm,

Stark and painfully dull.

Numbing like the cold of winter

Or over exercised muscles.

Something like giving way to plainness

Rasping like knuckles on a door at 2 am.

The rhythm is much disliked and needed

My gut gulping similar food

And my feet walking the same paths.

My heart beats at the same paced rhythm

And my mind revolves the same thoughts.

I've forgotten to be free

To live the joyous moments of change.