Thought Control

What worries you, masters you.... Unknown    
   
   
Familiar was the squawk of dawn's happy choir.    
A cheerfulness so potently dire.    
When daily suffering is inescapable    
Anguish does not discriminate or label.    
A man's belly, barren of bread, aches in pain.
An ache the same,
As the obsession to be desired by the vain.    
To the blacksmith of thought, we are the tool.    
The mastery of thought is the saving rule.