Sharing my new poem for those that aren’t subscribed to my newsletter. Trouble by Nicky Brendon I have an agitation Anxiety about society Waiting for bad news to find me I’m in a bind you see I don’t want to be a bother or cause a commotion I couldn’t stand the notion No need for concern though I’m in no danger that I know My dilemma is the difficulty at which I can express my distress My dissatisfaction in my inaction I have a need for fate to smile or at least smirk Instead life is sedate Nothing but dire straights I consent for the discontent that runs through me I ask for more and more discord Sanity is a foreign land that borders my disorders Hides my smiles, laughs at my dreams Feeds from the disquiet of hope The scope of dissatisfaction is only a fraction of my distress I don’t want to cause a disturbance, I’ve brought on enough turbulence I see the askance glances If you only knew how askew your views were I’ve stolen all the grief like a thief with no remorse Of course my hang-ups may be mundane to some I’ve grown numb to my heartache As I lumber about aimlessly Hiding in dark places as to not be a hindrance Incensed by your calloused disregard Discard my inconvenient lament I reside in the nation called irritation Where being a mess is a blessing And misfortune is a distortion coursing through our veins Having been a prudent student of nuisance Understanding the gains I’ve made For every pain I’ve waded through The pest in me is no different than pests in the rest of you Your pickle is that you condemn and judge when you should feel a tickle A trickle of joy, a spot of love Instead you find yourself in a predicament The significance of which leaves you with a loss of innocence Which is no coincidence I offer no condolences Our problems aren’t trivial Or unique or as bleak as we think The puzzle is the gift We’re all alone in this shit Adrift in the swift currents you cannot escape the scrapes Wear the scars and callouses with pride My sorrow is my guide And when I can, I hitch a ride I confide, I deride, and I abide When I’m in a spot, a strain, a stress, a strife, or a struggle I think of my pal sorrow And trouble seems to pass It’s

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Sharing my new poem for those that aren’t subscribed to my newsletter.

Trouble
by Nicky Brendon

I have an agitation
Anxiety about society
Waiting for bad news to find me
I’m in a bind you see
I don’t want to be a bother or cause a commotion

I couldn’t stand the notion
No need for concern though
I’m in no danger that I know
My dilemma is the difficulty at which I can express my distress
My dissatisfaction in my inaction

I have a need for fate to smile or at least smirk
Instead life is sedate
Nothing but dire straights
I consent for the discontent that runs through me
I ask for more and more discord
Sanity is a foreign land that borders my disorders
Hides my smiles, laughs at my dreams
Feeds from the disquiet of hope
The scope of dissatisfaction is only a fraction of my distress
I don’t want to cause a disturbance, I’ve brought on enough turbulence
I see the askance glances
If you only knew how askew your views were
I’ve stolen all the grief like a thief with no remorse
Of course my hang-ups may be mundane to some
I’ve grown numb to my heartache

As I lumber about aimlessly
Hiding in dark places as to not be a hindrance
Incensed by your calloused disregard
Discard my inconvenient lament
I reside in the nation called irritation
Where being a mess is a blessing
And misfortune is a distortion coursing through our veins
Having been a prudent student of nuisance
Understanding the gains I’ve made
For every pain I’ve waded through
The pest in me is no different than pests in the rest of you

Your pickle is that you condemn and judge when you should feel a tickle
A trickle of joy, a spot of love
Instead you find yourself in a predicament
The significance of which leaves you with a loss of innocence
Which is no coincidence
I offer no condolences
Our problems aren’t trivial
Or unique or as bleak as we think
The puzzle is the gift
We’re all alone in this shit
Adrift in the swift currents you cannot escape the scrapes
Wear the scars and callouses with pride
My sorrow is my guide
And when I can, I hitch a ride
I confide, I deride, and I abide
When I’m in a spot, a strain, a stress, a strife, or a struggle
I think of my pal sorrow
And trouble seems to pass
It’s


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