poetry 1 min

Stress

Jacqueline Todd

I've exposed every rut

In my mind and gut

Just by solitude's plough

And a sharp furrowed brow

Now I turn my bright gaze

On my heart's wayward ways

For she can't thrive on less

And on trouble and toil

Excavated by Stress

Lies depleted my soul's soil

And what false fruit it bore

I will toil no more

At the little death waiting

Past validation's trick door

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