I tell myself to make a list
Every single day

Especially on those cloudy ones
Full of endless gray

As I write down
All those things
To do or write or say

I give myself a distraction from stress
I’m throwing it away

Like a wadded up piece of paper
It’s gone forever I pray

Just as long as I follow my list
Everything will be okay

Or as long as I write poetry
My content with life can stay