In this place I would

like to stay, but I spoil it --


with worrying how.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨.
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨?
𝘉𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴?
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦?
𝘖𝘳 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴, 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘴?
𝘚𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?

Generating noises and worries
In a moment of recess while restless

There, heaves in sight of a wish
to have some sort of magic
spells to make your pain and sufferings vanish

I worry, whether

my life will keep going well –


so without worries.