So the years pass,

so slowly but with the small molasses movement

deceptive

and you don't even realize

that you are wanted.

With (out) in

So is what you do counted,

when your mind is rebelling.

Let me feel. Let me feel. Your body screams, twisting in the pain of withdrawal.

Let me be.

but you take it, this weak weak heart,

and

make it beat in an unfamiliar way, unnaturally. Be this, you say, shaking it angrily, surprised and betrayed when it,

shakily,

refuses,

weakly trying to return to its joy.

If I had to guess I would say that it is fighting in its way.

You are angry that it has decided to

not pay attention to your worrisome

whisps of control.