She worries about
everything,
real and imagined,
"what if this? What if that?"
I watched my
Mom
worry herself right
into the
grave one disastrous
December night.
My girlfriend doesn't care.
She wants me to
worry right along
with her.
And when I don't
she
gets angry.
My Dad said,
"They can kill us,
but they can't eat us."
I share this with her.
Nothing!
Just
worry, worry, worry.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 18th, 2024 11:45
- Comment from author about the poem: I have combined my poetry readings with my fishing adventures on my you tube channel. Good times.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 51
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Teddy.15, Vishakha
Offline)
Comments6
we just can't help it sometimes. I do believe worrying has it's limits though and not something that should ever be the death of us. 🌹 Most enjoyed dear Thomas
A poem full of aggition, anxiety and powerlessness. When the idle is set too high the motor burns out. Powerful words.
worrying achieves nothing but heartburn, and yet we are unable to let go of it...
great insight
Good words Thomas.
Andy
Therein lies the crux of the matter ,
Fantastic. I'm a worrier who tries to talk myself round so can relate to both sides on this one. Cheers, Tom.
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