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Nerves.
They strike me unexpectedly.
Wrenching my gut at a thought.
Expectations, suppositions, what-ifs.
I think, and as I am, I feel.
Why can't my nerves be subject to my will instead of my errant thoughts?
They fly around my head while I try to catch them,
Running after them, flailing the air
To put them
back in the bag of oblivion
Not from where they came,
But from where they were not yet a feeling.
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