It’s like a ticking of a clock
The time in which it doesn’t knock
It drowns the lovely into crashing
Until my throat is gasping.
Every worry finds a way,
Until it’s the only thing to say,
or think, or spend my life,
irrationally it’s my strife.
Days used to feel light,
now all my energy is in flight.
How does it feel to be at peace?
For I worry about how to please.
The ever consuming
that delays my blooming.
Will I ever be free?
Will it ever leave me be?
It wraps me like a snake,
squeezing me until I break.
I lay my head to sleep
But the thoughts make me weep.
For I wish for quiet
As I feel my head riot,
Is this feeling forever?
Or will it ever sever?
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 1:42 PM UTC
It’s like a ticking of a clock
The time in which it doesn’t knock
It drowns the lovely into crashing
Until my throat is gasping.
Every worry finds a way,
Until it’s the only thing to say,
or think, or spend my life,
irrationally it’s my strife.
Days used to feel light,
now all my energy is in flight.
How does it feel to be at peace?
For I worry about how to please.
The ever consuming
that delays my blooming.
Will I ever be free?
Will it ever leave me be?
It wraps me like a snake,
squeezing me until I break.
I lay my head to sleep
But the thoughts make me weep.
For I wish for quiet
As I feel my head riot,
Is this feeling forever?
Or will it ever sever?