The Old Glass

I’ve filled my glass with sadness,
That black, sticky, sooty goo.
I’ve filled my glass with stubbornness,
That bull that keeps on raging.

I’ve filled my glass with fury.
Those red, hot coals burning all of me.
I’ve filled my glass with futility.
That troubled face looks sullenly at me.

I’ve filled my glass with irritation,
That poking adds to the fire too.
I’ve filled my glass with hesitation,
That monster which keeps on hiding.

I’ve filled my glass with anxiety,
That wheel that keeps tripping me.
I’ve filled my glass with nobody,
That empty space reserved only for me.

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Hello Everyone! I’m back from my hiatus. This poem was written two months ago, hence aptly titled The Old Glass.

What do you think of this poem? Do comment!