Peevish

Her worry
attacks like sand flies
Buzzing
Swarming
Pricking
tiny sharp darts
Draw blood
That bubble to anger
A tantrum, like a
petulant 2 year old
“I’m Ok”
“I’m Ok”
And she turns
worry
a wet cloak
draped against her frame
To frail
To deal with a 30 yr old
Having a tantrum