Angst & Emotional Turmoil

The clock tower coughs another hour down,

And shadows lengthen,mimicking my frown.

The world, a canvas splashed with hurried hues,

Where every stroke seems blurry, nothing true.

A weightless dread, a phantom in my chest,

That whispers doubts and steals away my rest.

The news reports, a litany of woes,

Reflecting back the fear that deeply grows.

I search for anchors in a shifting sea,

A solid ground where I can simply be.

But every hand I reach for turns to mist,

A fragile promise, quickly, cruelly kissed.

The faces pass, each wearing their own mask,

A silent question hanging, a shared task:

To navigate this maze of modern life,

And find some solace in the daily strife.

Is this the price of progress, this unease?

A constant hum beneath the rustling trees?

A yearning for a simpler, bygone day,

Before the screens consumed and led astray?

Perhaps the answer lies within the cracks,

The imperfections in the well-worn tracks.

To find the beauty in the broken things,

And let the soul take flight on mended wings.

To breathe it in, this angst, this heavy air,

And know that others feel it, everywhere.

For in this shared vulnerability,

A fragile hope begins to bloom in me.