half hearted ,
non mover.
Such potential
Yet so wasted
What a body, lithe, waiting
To show what it can do
And you spoil it
You and your mental slovenliness,
Gives you a stiff neck and aching back.
You sit in the middle of a circle.
Every now and then pop to the edge
Have a quick spin
Does that excuse, or justify your lethargic?
Sitting in the middle.
But what of the middle space?
Does it please you?
And the visits to the periphery?
Every now and then?
Why do you sit there?
No one forces you to occupy that space
You sit tight with the idea that soon you‘ll be more active
That having stayed there for so long you‘ll be more active,
You‘re wrong,
You sit there because you‘re lazy
You're lazy because you sit there
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