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Where does worry come from?
It seems to flow with the breeze,
And not all of it, but some,
Will settle on the trees,
I look down to the floor
And I can feel it, every day
I pick up a little more
It builds up in some way
I cannot control my actions
I fight to see any hope
I struggle for distractions
I try so hard to cope
But, stepping into nature's air,
I can see so much clearer.
The sun's rays are everywhere.
And I can believe,
My bright future is certainly coming nearer.