the worlds two loneliest people
sit beside each other ever day
but they live up in their towers
from which they never stray

there is one window
but there are no doors
there are endless stairs
connecting empty floors

a rope bridge runs between
the two stone towers
maintained but never used
over golden fields of flowers

they look out occasionally
and sometimes see each other
they'd each like to meet
but each leaves it to the other

and nothing ever changes
and each of them die alone
each wishing they'd taken those first few steps
a mutually feeling never known

anxiety is a rope
made of the strongest fibers
that takes joy in slithering down your throat
and wrapping around your intestines.
it coils so very tightly
twisting and turning and tying
until you are on your knees
gasping for breath
and wishing for invisibility

                                                (or­ death,
                                                          ­      whichever is easier)

it's hard enough with your own
but it's harder to take on someone elses'
you want to be a pillar of strength
but you're just a blade of grass.

Sometimes i fear that time will run out
and i would have
done nothing
achieved nothing
proven nothing
accomplished nothing
The word failure is my gravity
it renders me useless, worthless
so i don't even try
i have let sands of chances slip through my
fingers
too scared of the sand getting into my eyes
give me ten thousand grains of sand to make
a castle
and i would only make a pillar
what is the point?
The castle is bound to break
the castle will break
My hard work will break
My hope will break
My possibility of success will break
so why bother?