THE RISE OF A POET

TO STRESS

I stress,stress much more than a child of my age

Venting my inconspicuous rage

Stressing a lot,past event cling in my brain

Much more than I could carry,

My head is few decades from a volcano

I've read stories of the despresssed,it sounds like a stress

Walking for miles in a year's day

A lot to carry,a lot to bury,a lot to be burdened

Till this sorrow purge not my soul

I screen for a setting,whence I flee from stress

Sees me in a wick of retrogress

Life's a stress,

When you need progress

Like everyone does,

Verily,verily,man's stress of a winnowing chaff

Stomping thy grounds at the might of a staff

Stress is chaff,clocks tick in minds without having a feel of a day
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