Somewhere deep inside me,
is happiness.
Security.
Comfort.
Somewhere inside me,
but none are triumphant.
Stress likes me though,
a lot,
I'm afraid.
Oh just to think of the things I would trade.
To be gone of my mistress,
my headaches,
tight neck.
That bitch I call strain
I would pay to forget.
A thousand gold pieces,
a million copper.
To cope with this cock-up
and cull my taut suffer.
To rest wrought resilience
and shame the old trophy.
A new era,
new chapter.
A new world where I see:
Security.
Comfort.
and Happiness triumphant.