Anxiety
just one more breath
nice and slow, think it through
isn't life or death; see?
what do you want to do
I wish this wasn't me
living with this constant cage
no peace for my mind
oh it's just a stage, is it?
fight/flight I'm inclined
my mind left for me to quit
shaking, crying, pale
dreams so close till I fall
and yet again fail
empty; outward I call
anxiety detour
I again endure
nothing remains secure
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I'm 20, but many tell me I have an old soul. I go through a lot of crap all the time about what I do and who I am so my stories and poems are the only places I can be free even if they mention my troubles it is a way to breathe, though the inspiration seems to fade every time
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