Reduced

Thinking is generally problematic,
For a worrier working on automatic.

The faster you move the quicker they'll go.
The customers, the plates, the food and your thoughts.
You stock up the salads, the butters the beer,
And throw out scenarios you can't bear to fear.

What ifs? Are dangerous, will poison your food,
Maybes are tasty but react in your throat,
You empty the fridge and throw most away,
And stock it with goodness that will last just one day.

The bin bags of turbulence are hauled out the back,
And stuffed in a green bin you leave in the dark,
But what about the dreams you didn't dare to crush,
Those nervously hidden under goodness mush?

Thinking is generally problematic,
For a worrier working on automatic.
Producing empty smiles and staring at the door,
Reducing the plates to shards on the floor.