Stress
Anxiety;
the fate that draws life near to me,
stretching out my palms to understand the emptiness
of my propriety.
Some rushing knuckles
through roots and eggshells,
but no gold dug,
just the fleet of mud.
I'll sprout a wrinkle
and regret the day
I let my wits run with anxiety.
Copyright © Jennifer Ratcliffe | Year Posted 2011
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