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Anxiety (Poem)

January 15, 2018

How can I describe what so many seem to see?

Hair pulling, nail biting,

Knots upon knots upon tightly wound chords within me

Blood is thick,

Sludge

Slow

Yet my heart is quick,

And beats in ways I am sad to know.

 

I know I am not alone in this fight

Yet someway

Somehow

My world is empty as dark is the night

As the drama that wraps inside my soul

Blooms ten fold

So does the curtains pull

And the stage is set

And the lights shine bold.

 

A train races a track

Its wheels clanking against the wood grain and iron

The lights ding, the whistle screams,

All that keeps it going

Is fire.

 

I used to think that perhaps I was a puzzle

Missing a piece

Ill fitting and fuddled.

I am a romantic without a poem to write

A lyricist with no music to strike

Up a plethora of words

Wrapped around my mind

 

Damn the pen

 

Damn the heart

 

Damn my kind.

 

Beneath this venire of smug disinterest

A hope that I could perhaps make a difference

That my words could possibly untangle

The hours of trauma that have caused me to mangle

My life and my passions into darkness and dread

Until that little voice whispers

 

Better off dead.

 

I will not succumb to the urge.

 

It passes through me

 

Like an electrical surge.

 

Tiny pills,

 

One

 

Two

 

Three

 

Four

 

Enough to keep my mind at war.

 

I wonder often,

How much longer can I keep these off me?

How long can I stomach the strength to keep fighting?

 

I have always forced myself to see the other side.

 

I have known my strength will never resign.

 

Yet how tired,

How frayed,

How helpless it feels,

To be lost in a whirlwind and drowned into darkness

Where all that awaits you is bleak and is heartless.

 

Yet there is light

 

There is light.

 

I end it here,

But take this as my fight.

 

 

 

Now will never be my last night.

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