Getting on with getting on
Work until the fear is gone
Or at least that’s the idea
In the morning bright and clear
But before it’s time for tea
The raised hand of anxiety
Says surely you can see that you
Are unworthy, stupid too
So just assume a foetal state
Beneath the griping claws of fate
But wait. A hero strong and dear
Brings smiles, and chocolate cake, and beer
And maybe just one shining day
We’ll send anxiety away
And dance beneath the setting sun
You. Me. And a job well done
Anxiety
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