I trained my gaze to turn a blind eye
To the incessant strobing wheedling away

Weeping willow tears, burrowing footsteps
Needling the swell of pure panic

When you said to me "The anxiety's
Bad at the mo", I became heavy with

The suffocation of 'What to do'....for you
My race to the winning post to

Grab the prize. the cure of all cures
The potion that'll dilute the multiplying

Butterflies grabbing onto your
Worry beads, slung around your neck

Should you forget their existence
A never ceasing adornment lines

Your palms with moistured intensity
Slips your grip on life, where once was peace