Anxiety

The pendulum begins to swing,

Each pass ticking away at my time left.

How long before I hear the blade sing?

By then, perhaps I will be deaf.

 

The screaming in my ears,

Surely will take my senses from me.

From the darkness a pair of eyes leer,

From my eyes they could see.

 

Perhaps I've been dreaming,

Something sick and deranged.

You look at me, eyes gleaming

And tell me I'm becoming strange.

 

Have I earned this fate?

No, my sins are not grave.

However at this rate,

A road to hell has been paved.

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