You peddle and paddle until you find your way
To a little quiet pond with a pretty chill bay
“Here I will rest, only just for a split
My body is weary and I need to sit”

You just found your way to a place made for thinking
But without taking notice your body starts sinking
You are still as a stone yet the world keeps on shrinking
Dark is the honey that you now can’t stop drinking

Melancholy swamps are no strangers to drought
Yet are easily flooded whenever you doubt
A boastful tree says “I could be a great scout”
to clouds of mosquitoes that it takes for its clout

Erosion! The passing of motion
You passed while still living on future emotions
Exchanging devotion for a chance at promotion
Bathing in venom labeled as lotion

Be wary, oh weary!
Smooth is the thorn when approached by the side
The silkiest of petals could do you great harm