I hate how anxiety even affects my sleep, its black sickly tendrils slithering into my mind and wrapping around my dreams, one by one. Gripping tightly and ensnaring its prey as it twists its scaly body around my soft dreams, suffocating them with its serpentine embrace. A ****** mist permeates my mind as I awaken from my slumber; dead dreams are all I see now. A mental battlefield strewn with the cold corpses of my hopes and dreams. Anxiety came like a thief in the night and took nothing, but killed everything. Sorrow is quickly snuffed out and replaced with rage. Rage and a new kind of hunger. My esurient soul is now ravenous for vengeance. This corpeal soul shall wage war of the likes only seen in legends of ancient battles between deities and monsters of long lost myths. My demons have won this battle, but the war has just begun
