No Pressure

No pressure,
Just the thoughts,
The thousands
And thousands
Of thoughts,

Red and white
Warning signs
And the scars
That sit tut-tutting
All cluttered
On our hearts,

The muttering
And the fluttering,

The stuttering
And such.

And the irony is
It’s the tut-tutting
That keeps
Our hearts beating
Most of the time,

There are moments
We’re just hopeless,

We can’t even rhyme
Without rhythms
And signs.

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