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I worry about everything, baby
I'm a
    writer - a poet
    passion begets anxiety
it's my job  hell
I even worry about
        my worrying
my stress is recursive
mere moments only can I
    break the loop
      forget to worry
        and smile
usually it's when I'm
    with you
I am but a grain of sand
On an expanse of shore.
Insignificant
Infinitesimal
Inconsequential
Irrelevant

Bu­t if I were to leave
The whole shoreline would change.
Perhaps in no major way
No astounding way
No amazing way

But it would change

— The End —