Sotto Poet Poet Concrete

Notes About The Poem

Self-Deluded Brain

I have tons of dreams amid the night's agony.
My optimism was tainted by despair.
Is there a cure to reignite passion?
Even anxiety found me sad.
The walls of the soul were silent.
The definition of wanting was inhibited.
And now I find myself at the ending of the hallway.
I am vigorously and repeatedly supervised.
Have faith in healing, waiting for relief.
We are puzzled by social visions.
The sharp focus is like a cloud.
The light on the Dark Ages.
Appears and vanishes.
Meaningless.
Stress.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

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

L Milton Hankins April 5, 2021 at 7:53 PM Nice work, Lasaad. Yes, one can easily be overwhelmed by anxiety..., but, frankly, writing is a wonderful therapy. I wish I had a pill that would obliterate stress; I'd be enormously wealthy~! Sotto Poet April 5, 2021 at 8:01 PM Thanks for reading and commenting, Milton. You have said it perfectly: writing is a stress-relieving treatment that works better than any pill. Believe me, Freind, if we quit writing, death is better.

Mystic Rose Rose April 5, 2021 at 3:20 PM quite often our stresses are meaningless and yet we don't seem to be able to put them aside so easily, nicely penned dear poet. thank you for sharing. Sotto Poet April 5, 2021 at 3:50 PM I’m so glad you like it and appreciate you reading and commenting, If That’s ok to call you Rose, I wish you all the best all the time. // Lasaad