Challenge
What does worry feel like? Poetry or prose. Make it as honest, brutal, and painful as the truth.
Worry, in all of its painful actuality
The want
the lust
the fracturing desire
to take our hands
our will
and place our fingers on
the unmovable rock of time
breaking our knuckles to move it an inch forward
to bend it with our sheer power to our advantage
but
the crippling reality
that our fingers are centimeters
away from the rock
and we are unable to reach any farther
but our minds push us to reach
to swing and stretch
to no avail
till our minds collapse
and our fingers turn to stone
and our eyes start to bleed.
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