Suspended anima

When the noose

Of tired soft rope

Is around the neck

Of your soul

Not pulled tight

Because the soul

Weighs so little

Just a limp

Enervating grip

Then your feet cannot

Push against

The ground

They dangle

Drag

In sluggish air

And you cannot walk

Forward

You

Can find

No next step

And the ground

Looks

Too close

Too far