To days going to be good
I tell my self the way the wind blows the leafs and the smell of the campfire wood it's like a ticking bomb waiting to arise
I sit there waiting thinking how beautiful the bright blue sky is
Is it going to rain or is it going to snow
I just sit there think oh what a beautiful lie I can't stress how much thoughts run through my head at night like will there be blue poppies in a meadow or a  fire uncomfortable at my feet
Oh how anxiety has a hold me