Image for the poem Thought Control

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.
Written by deliabear (Debbie)
Published | Edited 24th Jun 2024
Author's Note
Trying not to be mastered by worry.
We are what we think.

Image is Rodin's, The Thinker
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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