523 – Worries

The pale ghost
Of anxiety
Sits calmly
On your shoulder.

Its soft hands
Gently tighten
The strings
Inside your head.

So many plans,
So many projects,
So much to do,
Not enough time.

Another turn,
The strings grow tight,
You try to think,
Another turn.

A sudden twang
As the strings break,
A sudden calm
As all things burn.

The pale ghost’s eyes
Grow wide with fear
As you burst
Into laughter.

So many petty worries,
So many useless fears,
So much time lost,
What were they worth in the end?

Sitting on a hill,
You share a sandwich with a friend
Watching the bombs
Begin to fall.