Alternative Anxiety Dressed as a Black Normality

Tue, 03/29/2016 - 20:32 -- stormmj

In time’s pleasant age of anticipation

I find myself wearying without aspiration

To sorrows seeping with grave desperation,

Wondering how to escape this mounting frustration.

 

It twists my insides and wrings them out for naught,

Descending from despairing attempts to calm mere thought

That improbable dreams may never be wrought,

Haunting in fevered sufferings, never to be caught.

 

I hear its sly voice and fill my lungs with air;

In and out, again and again, my heart beating fair.

Feeling trapped in the chaos of my mind’s lair,

Close held yearnings for solitude becoming my flair.

 

Contorted and misshapen torments let in

Are expressed by lies behind curtains closed from within.

Only one thing can draw my bane from its win.

It soothes my emotions, returning a lonely grin.

 

Surrounding me with its encompass so vast,

Sad misery through fortitude is finally cast.

I’m captured by the voices, joy found at last:

Peace supported by enough strength to forget the past.

 

Through panic, fallout, and chemicals racing

I’m transported by the happy tragedies they sing

Into a parade of exultance, praising

The conquering of my enemy with just one swing.

 

My soul is molded by every lyric,

The rhythms of which are gracefully therapeutic;

Mournful words unforgivably symbolic,

Of the hope granted me through empowering music.

This poem is about: 
Me

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