Yoga

Yoga

They say you have to be flexible,

Limber and all,

But what's the difference between skeptical,

And a fools first fall.

Feelings tie me up like pretzels,

Chocking out life's true call,

Well at least I can be a Wetzel's,

Cinnamon sugar, no salt.

Why do the yoga,

That they call our life,

A bottle of Saratoga,

With a sliver of lime.

The things I go over,

Seem to always remind,

That no one is free,

It's the sign of the times.

So we commence to the yoga,

While we can still open our eyes.