Is it going to rain today?
Did I leave the stove on?
Am I going to keep my job?
Am I putting on weight?
Am I going to be late?
Will I catch that guy’s cold?
Did my milk go bad?
Am I going to be in a car crash?
Can I finish this poem?
Is somebody going to rob me?
Will my house catch fire?
Am I going to catch Ebola?
Will a tornado hit ground?
Will that car crash into my house?
Will I drown in my bathtub?
Is that guy stalking me?
Will I be struck by lightning?
Did somebody poison my drink?
Will that plane fall out of the sky?
Will I spontaneously combust?
Is the world going to end tomorrow?
Do I worry too much?

Author’s Notes (may contain spoilers):

This poem is about worrying and paranoia.  I have always been a compulsive worrier, so I wrote this poem, hoping it could help me to worry a bit less, hoping to channel that paranoia and anxiety into creativity.  I tend to worry about things I really shouldn’t, simply because I can’t help myself.

But enough about me, I wrote this poem to include both ordinary everyday worries, things people can worry about, and probably are justified in doing so, but ultimately beginning to sound more paranoid later in the poem, as the things being worried about become increasingly less and less justified.


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