The Worry Bag

I wear this bag around my neck
that no one else can see

Unadorned and simple
constructed purposefully

Most times heavy, sometimes light
This bag of mine holds fear

For when my soul gets cluttered
and angst filled thoughts appear

I take these stones of worry
and toss them in my bag

Praying they will disappear
these endless pesky nags

These stones of worry smoulder
growing heavier by the day

Until they finally drag me down
and all my strength gives way

My heart grows weary, my soul askew
my eyes well up with rain

Every fiber pulsing with
unrelenting pain

It's then I know to take my bag
and dump it on a table

To sift and sort and rid myself
of those which I am able