You think you’re awake, a dismal headache,
when peace is denied by anxiety.
Your mind seems to churn, how little you earn,
and where you are held in society.
Your present abode is not a la mode,
nor worthy of your notoriety.
You yearn for a drink, yet others may think
it questions your very sobriety.
Your pay is delayed, the bills go unpaid,
your Credit Card’s lost down the loo.
You toss and you turn, with greater concern,
your worries just seem to accrue.
A regular wreck, a crick in the neck,
you really don’t know what to do.
But darkness has passed, it’s daylight at last;
you then find your nightmares – are TRUE!
For Roy's Competition. 25th May 2013.
Copyright © Charles Clive