The world turns,'
we breathe, whilst I sit
and wait for you to see right through me.
my wrists are bare.
you're kissing the marks I made
with the blade I held
in the blame I felt,
and the sadness that overtook me like a tidalwave.

Wasted in my own worthlessness,
I didn't think. Simply did.
Shook as my tears fell,
vision blurred,
Lines appeared and I wish they'd go away,
faster.

They're not a simple of beauty.
they do not show how strong I am,
but instead they show my weakness,
and my impending doom.
I feel as if I've failed you,
this is a mixed drink,
of regret and pain.

I hate them.

I hate them.

With every fiber, in my broken down being.

Why do I sit here
When I know what will happen
Why do I stay
When I know you're not here.
I know there's nothing to fear,
But it doesn't make it easier to tamp it down.

I hear the whispering voice in my head
Telling me lies that fill me with dread
She sounds like me, I know she isn't
She is my anxiety,
And I can't hide inside my own head.

When my hands shake and ache
And my stomach seems to spin
When the world goes blurry
My thoughts churn,
And they win.

My vision begins to tunnel
My breathing is hard and fast
I know panicking is pointless
Worrying is worthless
But it's so overwhelming, a tidalwave of terror that washes over me.

You ask why it's so hard without you here.
I need a grounding light
Something to guide me back
Without something to distract me from myself, I go black.
Without a hand to hold or a voice to cling to, I have lost myself again.

Without kindness, I cannot live.

"Worrying means you suffer twice!"

Easy for you to say,
Yet I live this. Worrying means you suffer more than twice.
Anxiety was never a choice, nor a sign of weakness or frailty.
I am not what I suffer from.
It came because I attempted to be strong enough for everyone.

I've got strung up, stuck in the cobwebs of life
As dead as the fly that thinks he has a chance of surviving.
While dying, he's crying out the sights of his dreams;
Nightmares strike his mind like a flood of the sea.
Trying to surf on a tidalwave of tangled emotions
When the ocean still fights him to try to keep him from floating.
Drowning in a master's spindled masterpiece,
Suffocating me through the most perfect technique;
Solitude.