My Mind -The Parking Lot Poem by Phil Soar

My Brain is like a parking lot
Sectioned, where I leave my troubled mind
While I search for answers,
Shopping for the items that might cure my ills
Spending time reaching for solutions
And knowing my troubles can soon be resolved
And all the while my spaces fill with problems
Until my lot is full, and I need some relief
So I find the answers, and drive away a few,
The barriers lift, and a trouble leaves
Only for another to take its place
Waiting in the queue,
At the entrance to my mind
Searching for a space to fill
With time allowed limited by the answers
No charges
Just the impact of a possible overstay
And the resulting over-heating
On the engine of my mind
A flat battery of cells within my driving force
Requiring a boost from a charger
And revitalising the circuitry
Re-energising the mind
And so the parking lot becomes vacant
All the troubles deleted as the cells re-boot
Until the queue forms again
And the spaces begin to fill.