Challenge
What does worry feel like? Poetry or prose. Make it as honest, brutal, and painful as the truth.
Worried
The scenarios drift through my head,
and the urge to vomit comes on strong,
they all end with them dead,
for I have been away too long.
The tears fall from my eyes,
as I deceive myself to hope,
everything I thought were lies,
refusing to know how to cope.
I brush away the tears,
shake off the pain,
but its been years,
and all of it was rain.
I ignore the warnings in my head,
but walk in to find them dead.
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