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Image for the poem Stress

Stress

Stress!
A killer of love!
Fact!
It rips the heart asunder,
Nothing is left to give,
It shreds the lifeblood,
Till there's nothing to offer.
It dries the body
Twisted and broken,
Stress!
Cares not, who you are,
Stress!
Or where you're from,
It bleeds you dry,
Then you wither and die,
Stress!

Drew Balfour © 2020



Written by Silverotter65 (Drew1103)
Published
Author's Note
After a mammoth session with caring for my son and trying to pour as much love as possible. He continued self-harm; it takes it out of you.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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