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.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
