Its forced, like a crow bars metal bite
Against the cold surface of my heart
Where the anxiety pries,
Hard against my insecurities,
All my bad dreams, and
Old deeds done and buried, regretted
And carried to their graves,
Never to be replicated,
Torn from there spot
At the bottom of my heart,
Blood spills, crimson dripping
Down the concaved prison.
And with all the feelings that have risen
For no good reason I feel ashamed.
When I was dyeing but survived,
I wish I had just closed my eyes
And drifted to whatever end
Suits me best and sooths anxieties
I hold in my chest.
To feel free for
Just a single day,
Be free of me and this
I confess is the brightest
Of all my pipe dreams.
Not scared with the panic of my anxieties,
always chasing me.