There is a small hole in my back and
no matter which way I toss or turn I cannot seem to fill it.
I will walk and walk and walk but it will still be empty
it will still be missing.
I will walk to the end of the earth to find it again
Fear for me is not terror.
It’s an itch on the very edges of my shoulders that will not leave
I have scratched off the top layers of my skin trying
when it comes I am an inch shorter and a foot smaller
and when it puts its hands on my face I can’t bear to look away
my fear is sleepless nights staring at a clock that ticks down to zero
whenever it reaches the end I am convinced that the world will end but it hasn’t yet
I just reset the clock and roll over and over again
maybe next time the world will finally start to break apart
I think about time every time time happens
my mind loves to remind me
again and again repeating lines for emphasis
that I am running out
my heart is too fast and my hands are too slow
my breathing is somewhere in the middle
I am looking for something I lost long ago
I will walk to the end of the earth to find it again
I will walk to the end of the earth to find my peace
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 11:26 PM UTC
There is a small hole in my back and
no matter which way I toss or turn I cannot seem to fill it.
I will walk and walk and walk but it will still be empty
it will still be missing.
I will walk to the end of the earth to find it again
Fear for me is not terror.
It’s an itch on the very edges of my shoulders that will not leave
I have scratched off the top layers of my skin trying
when it comes I am an inch shorter and a foot smaller
and when it puts its hands on my face I can’t bear to look away
my fear is sleepless nights staring at a clock that ticks down to zero
whenever it reaches the end I am convinced that the world will end but it hasn’t yet
I just reset the clock and roll over and over again
maybe next time the world will finally start to break apart
I think about time every time time happens
my mind loves to remind me
again and again repeating lines for emphasis
that I am running out
my heart is too fast and my hands are too slow
my breathing is somewhere in the middle
I am looking for something I lost long ago
I will walk to the end of the earth to find it again
I will walk to the end of the earth to find my peace
a special form of hell
I wrote this for a psychology class to describe a specific form of anxiety, bonus points if you know what it is
