Irrational thoughts come streaming
like destructive fireworks, grenades awaiting to blow
bombs of anxiety that
sit and tick in my brain.

These clock faces are making me go insane.

Yes, I know doctor
I know, mother
the thoughts are not true
that he will control me if I speak to soon
that they hate me because I said I like the colour blue
that I will be alone and everyone else will find true

love.

For people smile at me through gleaming eyes
and glossy lips
with no idea of the hit and miss.

Can they not see the internal hell that wages a war inside this shell of a body?
Can they not see as I hold a conversation, the fear in the corners of my eyes?
Can they not see me back bend, shoulders over as my chest fills with pain, an anchor weighing me down to the depts of the sea.

I smile back and walk on
head down,
try not to see, hear or feel
the invisible figures that

taunt me.