Stress

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


 

Stress The word stress is a stressful word A word that most people tell me STOP. But stress is something that can push you forward When really, you just want to drop. Stress is a thought that lingers in your mind A person you see, that takes you on a drive Down memory lane of all the things you could’ve said Shouldn’t have Wouldn’t have if they just stopped! And listened to your pain. Stress is like a flickering thought in your head When someone asks you what is the matter And your response is fine, I’m just tired Because you can’t burden others with YOUR stress They JUST DON’T understand They don’t want to be bothered with YOUR MESS Stress is the in-laws coming to town Making themselves comfy in your home A home you TOLD them to make for themselves Because that is the first response that we have been conditioned to speak If we really spoke what was on our hearts, we are being rude. Stress is the ring leader in this plastic circus And you are the elephant for stress to control To beat you into submission and make you afraid to leave And gives you a small peanut as a reward. A peanut, for the 20-ton, beast but you think it’s ok Because you’ve never been outside Never seen other elephants on the plains You’ve lived your life in the dark Stress makes you believe that everything is fine To confine and limit how you see the world from under the tent You scare at the tiniest mouse that crosses your path Stress makes you think that this is just how the world works Stress is the silent killer in the night Of dreams that could have happened Or people we could have loved People we could have escaped Thoughts we could have made reality To better ourselves Better our lives Stress is that whisper in your ear The Puppet master tugging on your strings Moving your wooden frame Blinking your eyes and moving your limbs Blending you in with the rest of societies puppets Who wait for you to move in the wrong direction To blink your eyes out of time To tap your foot to a distant beat A beat that is the rhythm of your own heart That left the hollow corridors of your soul Lingering like a long forgotten song Calling its siren’s song Pulling at your strings But you mustn’t listen! Stress jerks your strings back to its place Stress is your master Stress is your cancer Stress is your parent’s teachings Stress is your assignments in class Stress is your degree Stress is your Job Stress is your love life You can’t run off and join the circus Because stress says you can’t So you just can’t!

... Right?


Submitted: September 08, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Betty-Jean. All rights reserved.

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