December 1, 2009
She thought I was too immature
Too understand what’s going on,
But somehow I know
From the cancer,
To the money trouble.
I notice the tension in your body language. I have eyes.
I hear the strain in your voice. I have ears.
I let the thoughts soak in,
And, amazingly, I don’t cry or anything.
I just stress.
Stress, stress, stress,
That’s me.
But I get over it,
Is the key word.
Waiting for that eventually,
Has almost consumed my life.
That’s about to change.

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