Little Monsters

There is race of little monsters,

Their numbers are countless,

And they live everywhere.

 

They cannot be seen.

They have no smell.

They have no discernable form.

 

I know these little monsters.

Each person has at least one assigned to them,

From forces beyond our comprehension

 

Stomach in knots, clenching and churning

Air trapped in the lungs, locked in place

Heart racing, thoughts flying

 

They are vicious things.

They are patient and

They strike when least expected

 

I can’t breathe.

I can’t think.

I want to cry.

 

The monsters are attacking.

No one can see them.

No one can help me.

 

Breathe.

Just,

Breathe.

 

Frozen in place,

Trapped in my mind

Can anyone see me?

 

Breathe.

Just,

Breathe.

 

I don’t want them too.

They can’t see me like this.

I have to…

 

Breathe.

Just,

Breathe.

 

It’s just a presentation.

It’s just a piece of art.

I cannot let this monster rip me apart.

 

A breath.

 

My lungs begin to loosen.

My heart begins to slow.

My thoughts focus on my breaths.

 

I will be okay.

I will not let the monsters win.

They will be banished back into the corners of my mind.

 

Anxiety, this is your eviction notice.

I have a life to live.

This poem is about: 
Me

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