Ethan’s poem ,Worry

My worry is made from

Cogs and screws,

scattered like rubbers in Lachlan’s tray,

A torn piece of paper

From your past,

A pointy,sharp shard of glass

From a sailers last ever drink

I found it

Where the western winds blow wild,

In a dumpster,weeping like a troubled hyena ,

Being imprisoned by the greatest warlock

To ever live,

Stranded in a silent,dark forest ,

Eternally falling into a black void of nightmares

My worry can

Make even the darkest of soul’s scared ,

Give you the ability to hear scream’s

from even the most wholesome hearted of people,

Make constilation’s crumble into a Bolivian and

Leave only the slightest of stardust

If I lost my worry

The universe would turn inside out,

Evil would turn to good,

The world would become a better place

By Ethan Jones