Stress Poem by robert dickerson

Stress, Stress, who are you, what are you?
Alot of people seem to know you.
Stress, Stress, I hear your name alot
but I can't quite recall your face
I can't remember your voice, Stress,
and you're completely odorless.

Stress, Stress, what are you, Stress?
Are you a god? Are you a goddess
with symbols and familiars?
Are you a cloud? A jellyfish?
Like God, you are known by your works, I guess.
Like God you get so much bad press.

Everyone blames you for this, Stress,
everyone blames you for that.
They say they can feel your breath on their necks-
that where they step you step
like a shadow assassin-and they're scared, yep.
Do you do it, Stress? Confess?

Can you cause piles? Can you cause shingles?
Can you make people late?
Can you cause PMS?
People say yes, yes, yes.
You could never get a fair trial, Stress-
Not in this state.

Can you cause flat feet? Or the grippe
to linger and never give up?
Cause you the hair-lip?
Can you cause cancer?
People say sure but where's the proof
for no matter how quickly they twist

they never can see your face
for you are like a mist,
Stress, you are like a heat.
Maybe you don't really even exist.
Stress, Stress, I'll tell you this-
I think you have a libel case.

You never are seen at the scene of the crime-
mugshot, fingerprint, jammering witness
oddly inavailable. Stress, Stress
I think you got blamed, I think you got framed,
I believe in your innocence, Stress
so tell 'em to just bust off!