Anxiety

Anxiety Anxiety is that demon That crawls into your sleeping mind And wakes you in the witching hours, To toss and tumble and you find Troubles growing unresolved, While you imagine fingers pointing This and that you did not do, How awful you must be. And in desperation, you turn the radio low, And pray your favorite prayer, Until finally you drift to wake to morning dawn, Spit at the devil And make a cup of coffee.

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Constance La France

Date: 10/18/2018 2:38:00 PM

Sun and that night it all comes back, your poem screams of reality , well done ~

Caycay Jennings

Date: 9/15/2018 3:46:00 PM

I understand this night time horror and related to each word you wrote, even the cleverness used to minimize such thought attacks. If time allows, please read my "Night Thoughts" (1st poem page) because I strongly believe you will find yourself there as much as I recognized myself here. Poetry hugs ... CayCay

Sunlite Wanter
Date: 9/15/2018 6:05:00 PM

I read your poem, and you are so right. It seems to be a very common problem. Thanks for commenting.

Winged Warrior

Date: 9/14/2018 7:01:00 AM

The struggles continue...I'll take my coffee black please lol...great write Sunlite...love & light...^WW^

Heidi Sands

Date: 9/13/2018 6:55:00 AM

Great one Sunlite. I can relate to this and like how you ended it too :)

Susan Ashley

Date: 9/12/2018 10:52:00 PM

Yes, Sunlite, you express this nocturnal phenomenon so exquisitely right down to your last two beautiful lines.. Love it and a fav! Warmest wishes always my friend.. ~Susan

Chris Green

Date: 9/12/2018 1:06:00 PM

That sounds about how my nights go...most of time. : ) This was very good my friend. Love the last lines.