Imní
Anxiety is a dragon
that slumbers beneath my skin,
the heat from his breath pricking my neck
Some days he is kind, and slithers down my spine,
spreads his wings out,
covering only my back and shoulders with heavy scales
Other days, he burrows into my chest
pushing aside my lungs and heart
I can’t feel anything, breathe anything in
besides his presence
He claws at my hands,
growls at them through a huff of smoke
to stop shaking
What he does not know is
his tail is twitching,
wound around my fingers
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