Frustration is…
prosaic poetry unraveled
Repeating one’s self so much so you feel
like your voice is a thread-bare rug everyone
walks upon.
Not being heard, raising your voice
so that you are heard, and then no one
listening to you because you are YELLING.
Doing your best and failing.
Guessing the Wordle at the beginning of your day,
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having the word be gloom and that word forecasting
a pall over your Monday.
Being reminded of all the things you
have not done and feeling powerless to do them.
Having your phone ding unrelentingly,
on a day, you would rather not engage with people at all.
Trying to find calm in a haystack of irritation.
A pesky bunch of fungus gnats that have survived
all home remedies, soil replacements, and multiple
smashings.
One day that needs no repeating.
