What is anxiety? Is it but a name of an illness? Am I it's proprietary? If so how could anyone miss?; All that goes on with me? Can they not see? My beating heart wanting to escape, This doomly fate, That is only but in my head, As my horrors I have fed: With my hopes and all my dreams, It's what it seems. Why can't others see the breath stuck mid chest, Do I seriously look like the rest? Breathing happily, Carelessly? Can't you see?; This thing suffocating me?! It doesn't even stop there, As it covers my blank stare, So nobody notices, That it's main torture is; Through using my own mind to drive myself insane. And from this there is absolutely nothing to gain, But hurt sadness and pain, Making my existence nothing more important than a stain. Why can't you see? Why can't you help me...?