Tuesday, February 3, 2015

I Worry

I can worry a groove into this floor,
I can pace back and forth for years,
I see myself, a future widow,
Waiting for someone to come home.
I am on thick carpet, carving a path,
It is new it is strange I am lonely and empty,
The worth inside of me raises its head
And goes back to sleep.
I fret too much, I worry about the broken souls I carry on my shoulders -
They don’t even know how much their happiness means to me.
I worry that tomorrow he will not wake up;
I worry that tomorrow she will forget how beautiful she is.
I feel like I am not precious,
And I am counting the days, holding them to my heart,
Waiting for him to realize his mistake,
And break my heart -
Which I would happily let him do
Because that is the cost of love, my happiness for his.
I worry that I am a burden,
After all I am lazy and I procrastinate.
I pace this wooden floor, back and forth,
‘Til I wear away a board and fall down
Into a pit of despair.
I am counting pennies, hoping
That I have enough for this next cost,
Worrying that I will regret it -
I regret so much in life.
“Live with no regrets!” I cry,
And I try to follow it, I do -
But I regret so much.
I worry I am a hypocrite,
That the words that come from my mouth don’t match my actions -
I know already that I do not practice what I preach,
That the darkness inside of me has swallowed me,
When I claim to be happy.
I worry that someone will see through my mask,
That my words will fall to pieces,
And in the echo of my love and hate,
I will be stripped bare, red and raw,
And I cannot gather myself together in time,
To pretend in continuation that I am fine.
I worry that the ones I love the most do not see my flaws;
Why, I wonder, do they not abandon me?
A fitting punishment for a torn creature,
I can do no pain when they do not stay.
I am not strong enough to push them away.
I worry about the damage I cause,
When in anger I lash out,
And all I get in response is understanding,
How can they not see,
That everything is wrong with me?
I worry that my words are too personal,
Or not personal enough.
I worry that nothing I do is good enough,
What sort of carried cost can I rise?
I worry that Ingrid Michaelson and Dia Frampton
Are not enough to keep the pain at bay;
I sing along with  my favorite songs,
But when I hurt, I despair.
I worry about how selfish I am -
I know I go too far.
I’m glad, at least, that I don’t hate myself for selfishness anymore,
But I still feel such a bitter chokehold,
I cannot understand.
I worry that when all is said and done,
The world will see through my lies.
“I’m fine” means something more along the lines of
“I’m breaking, but I’m making it”.
After all - I make my day,
You fake it until you make it,
I have to make it one day.
I worry that this is not good enough,
The baring of my soul,
But this is all I can do,
Poetry is all I’ve ever known.


  1. Everyone has worries. Everyone has something wrong with them. Some of them even worry that they'll only be a burden to one another. They worry they'll never be good enough, and will laugh and smile when behind that facade they sob and despair, hiding how broken they feel and how they struggle from one day to the next. It's like a fog of dread that they try to wander and stumble through. What they can't see at times is that they aren't the only ones struggling through the fog of dread and doubt. They can't see their hand held out in front of their face at times, let alone something else.

    That they are not the burden they think themselves to be. That despite their faults, they are still loved.for their strengths than they could ever be hated for the former. They are irreplaceable for who they are and who they are not. They are more than good enough. They are the wonderful, beautiful, and above all else priceless in the eyes of those they fear only see them as a burden.

    Make no mistake, even if the fog of dread, worry, and doubt cloud your vision, You are Loved just the same.

  2. My sweet girl, you know from reading my journals that you have never been a burden. These doubts you have are so NOT based in reality; just a feeling we all have now and then when things pile up, new stresses enter our lives and the road seems a bit rough. Your dad and I love you beyond measure, beyond anything you can imagine until it is your turn to hold your child in your arms and discover what the deepest possible love is. You are loved and not a day goes by we are not grateful for your presence in our lives. You are my little ray of sunshine. Always have been. Love you, baby!