Stress - Poem by Bryony Sheldon
Getting reckless like a backer losing fast,
Sweatin' bullets ‘cause you know that you can't turn back,
In a panic, sprinting, ‘cause time is all you need.
Watch out everybody- there's a madman on the street!
Paranoia turning you inside and out,
If they don't move you'll just have to run them down.
Mind is racing- make haste is what you gotta do.
But to make haste is waste; perhaps haste is making you?
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Comments about Stress by Bryony Sheldon
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