Monster
I feel every emotion,
It overrides the brain,
And then I feel nothing...
Just the empty space,
Alone with the monster.
I wake up to put on my mask,
underneath I hide in plain sight.
“It” circulates to all parts of the psyche,
generating fallacies and fears,
Building to a crescendo,
I feed the monster well.
Everything and nothing is wrong,
circle jerking in a continuous loop.
The madness scourges the internet,
for irrational answers,
to a neurotic mirage,
to lull the monster to a temporary slumber.
Answers are maps to new questions,
mine lead to dead ends,
I may fail to find whatever I seek,
happiness can be fickle and sparse,
my monster didn’t come with a manual.
I personify my anxiety in this poem referring to "It" and as the monster of the poem. I leave the ending open-ended because I want the reader to relate that problems like anxiety are not easy to understand that is ok.
