Sunday, July 27, 2014

Worry.

Worried and worried,
Why do you worry?
Just to fill the space not consumed by fury?
To keep up with a life you live in a hurry?
Is the judgment of your peers like facing a jury?
Judge,
jury,
and executioner,
Heard luck is a lady but never been to bed with her,
Need wisdom from the wise men not gold and myrrh,
Have a hard-taught sickness and there is no cure,
Where are your thoughts?
Where did you hide them?
You need to find them to know what’s inside them,
You’re never gonna find them at the end of a crack stem,
Or deep in the folds of your mother’s dress hem,
Own yourself,
Own your life,
Don’t own a life that’s rife with strife,
Try not to end up at the end of a knife,
Stop your worry and you'll die old with a wife.

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