Anxiety is a beastly thing.
A small bug that becomes a monster,
after planting itself inside you.
Some days it is strong, some days it’s weak,
yet it feels like it is there for good.
Moving in boxes, planning to stay.
The beast is an unwelcome house guest.
I don’t know where it stops and I start.
Burdened with the battle for so long.
Therapy, medication, and more.
I’m holding the line, but that is all.
How many of us have it inside?
I do not know how to make it leave.
If I knew, I’d share the trick with you.
The hidden path to serenity.
To leave it behind would be perfect.
To lay eyes on the beast a last time,
and to see it leave me finally.
But I fear that day will never come.
I am ensnared by dark tentacles.
Remove one, and another gets me.
My endless fight, with anxiety.
Poetry