Her anxiety is stealing her everything,
Everything she wants to do,
Everything she wants to say,
But those everything's are as good as dead...

Because her anxiety is here to stay.

Do you understand what I write?
Or is it all for nothing.
Is it worth trying to fight,
To know that I feel something...?

I don't know whether I'm numb or accustomed to this feeling,
With time is it steeling?
What I should feel,
But then why shouldn't it steal,
This dreadful feeling,
That takes away from living,
But also takes away what I feel,
Should it continue to take the wheel?
Or ignore this feeling-once and for all,
Even tho I'm still affected by its call,
To ignite a fire in me,
That nobody can see,
Except for in my poetry,
Will I just let this feeling go,
To no longer feel that blow,
That ignites the flame,
And puts me to shame,
That feeling just always comes,
And me it almost always stuns,
Cause how could one get used to,
A feeling you feel abused to,
No matter what I choose-it'll always be present,
It's whether or not I chose to resent it,
And whether or not I feel it,
Is not always up to me,
You see,
It hurts me more than I'd like to admit...
     ....That **** jealousy...

Is you passing by me one day
and even after I call your name,
you just keep walking away...

Eventually my voice will disappear...
cause....
People only listen to what they want to hear...

I'm sure after this, nothing will remain,
Not you or this, not even a stain,
For when my mind runs, you can't stop it,
No matter how fast you run, it will never quit,
So come to terms, knowing that nothing will remain,
That once it starts, all horrors-it claims,
It loves the dark cruel things,
And all the dark things they bring,
Like the image of you with another, any other,
Than me in your arms, as I'm in a storm,
That will never end, as I have no friends,
All dreams dead in this world, that my mind brings me to,
It leaves me small and curled, as this I didn't even choose,
But it happens anyways, and maybe this time it'll stay,
As nothing will remain, as everything from my life it will drain,
As I wake up with nothing, but a constant sting in my heart and a ring in my ears, as my eyes will have even lost all tears...
Will you still want to be around,
When I will have found; everything in my life-burnt to ash,
There is no catch, but no guarantee...
....that you won't get burnt down with me.