Challenge
What does worry feel like? Poetry or prose. Make it as honest, brutal, and painful as the truth.
Baby Girl
Panic grips my heart and squeezes
What has she done, where has she gone
Please, oh, lord, let this be her own doing
Not some maniac, not Satan’s spawn
Terror grips my mind and squeezes
I see her running frantic in the night
Being raped, being beat, being cut by a knife
Lying hurt in a ditch, fighting for her life
And I’m not there
Please, God, let her be all right
Worry grips my soul and squeezes
My world has suddenly redefined
Can’t stop the horror reel as it runs through my mind
Can’t stop the images, the madness entwined
The second hand moves but an inch
It’s going to be a very long night
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