Moving through the motions

With the anker dug in tight

Be careful not to start commotions

With no plan set in sight

Forgo all reason

Forgo all caution

It's time to clip the chain

Did you know that was an option?

A cool wind tickles the back of my spine

Alerting me that whats concerning me is just a waste of time

Believe me, there is reason to my rhyme

Accounts don't filled from writing expressions

But I gain power from burrowing deep into my recollection

Each and every line is a reflection of my state

When the felt hits the paper my mind's doctor begins to operate

Each metaphor an incision

Each stanza a sedative

Battling each mornings indecision

The dosage is relative

The Doctor can never retire

For the ailment is cured today

Yesterday's stitches will surely expire