Mind Control

Beware the path of instant dread,

That easy stream inside your head.

Red herrings swoop and plague your brain,

“What could be? Is it me?

Conclusions falling cold as rain.

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Infant thoughts so soft and small,

While waiting longer for a call.

Clawing, scratching, desperate plea.

“What to do? Not a clue!”

Don’t follow your anxiety.

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Quenching thoughts of self destruction,

Will your way to their disruption.

Avoid the fall into the view,

“It’s all done! I’m no one!”

And choose to think anew.

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All you do is all you can,

Your mind’s direction needs a plan,

To stop the worry based on myth.

“I was true. Tomorrow’s new.”

Control the voices you live with.

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Written by Randall Evans

It’s The End of the Day, Shoes Off!

It’s the end of the day, shoes off!
But, in the bed you lie,
When an itch, starts itching, on your foot.
Something hurts and can’t be good
On your feet all day you stood,
But the itch was feeling shy.

It’s the end of the day, shoes off!
It starts to hurt a bit.
Friction through your sock so tight,
See that this is man’s delight.
That when his pain is brought to light,
He hasn’t got the wit.

It’s the end of the day, shoes off!
A little bit of blood.
The foot stings a little more,
It’s a pain now standing on the floor.
More than what it was before,
Stinging welling like a flood.

It’s the end of the day, shoes off!
Why’d the pain start then?
Buried in a confined space.
A pain that start’s late in the race,
Waits ‘till dusk to show it’s face,
But on the base of men.

It’s the end of the day, shoes off!
I want to shout at you!
Don’t scratch me when it’s late.
See to me when I don’t ache
Hidden pain controls your fate,
Fix me well before I’m due.

Written By Randall Evans

This was a new rhythm for me inspired by “Ah, Are You Digging on My Grave?” By Thomas Hardy 1913