Anxiety

Is a total bitch

and I, sometimes

her slave

She’s a sneaky devil

a voice inside my head

a picture I can’t control

a fear that swallows me whole

a storm raging out of control

and she swirls me around

trapped inside a leaky boat

and all around me

crashing waves in cold and confusion

and I’m right

I’m so right

I know I’m right

and I’m on the offensive

attack attack attack

and you bleed

slashed and torn

and dying

and what have I done?

Then the storm clouds clear

and the lighting flashes

in the distance

and the thunder is trembling

in my chest

and I’m holding onto

your tattered body

Filled with shame I apologize

and I beg for mercy

Your eyes tired of the fight

looking into mine

what have I done?

You forgive me

one last time

as that anxious bitch slips away

back into a corner of my brain

until I think I’m lucid

and I feel sane

to tiptoe her way back

twisting images

and sounds

and all your truth

and all your love

and I’m a raging mess again

 

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Author: doing2016

I started writing when I was very young. Then I was mortified on a bus full of people when one of my stories was read aloud. I lost my focus and quit. Now, I'm trying to find my voice and my ambition. I love to write, good or bad. So, I'm doing it here and now. Thank you.

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