This page was blank
for a long time,
staring back at me with
the same anxiety
I stared at it with.
Blank Anxiety.
A dreadful anxiety,
gnawing at the corners
of my well-being,
trepidation and
tepidness,
of anticipation.
I know why of course.
It’s not a mystery,
where this concern
dwells; it’s in Atlanta,
on a Newsroom
TV stage.
The culmination of
years of dialogue;
speeches, monologues,
summations, defenses,
accusations, comments,
off-the-cuff witticisms.
All on display in
blaring anxious colors,
flickering on TV’s,
as I nail-bite and pace,
with each debatable
disappointment.
The animal of politics
is vicious and ferocious,
blood thirsty and venomous,
but enjoys being pet and
cuddled, told it’s “Good”,
while people go hungry and wars wage.
This page was blank for
a long while, as I sorted my
anxieties, so I understand,
why the page might be looking
back at me, with anxiety.
Suspicion, even.
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