Rusted Bearings

Lord, help me. All my bearings have now rusted.
 
Discintegrated, they are crusted.
 
Crumbled once I leaned my weight.
 
Deceived me because they held their shape.
 
 
Lord, help me. I'm losing it completely.

Mind once mine now has left me.

I set in down upon a leaf and sailed it down the gutter stream.

Toothpick holding up the flag that waves surrendering.
 
 
Lord, help me. My head is resting in a fog.
 
Sunk deep in the cloudy bog.
 
To pull it up would take great might.
 
How I want to see the dawning light.
 
 
Lord, help me. This is the last time I shall beg.
 
I cannot take another day.
 
This stronghold clenching at my soul.
 
Over me it takes control.